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ASPECTS   OF   MODERN    OXFORD 


OFTSS    ^^^ 

TjNivERsrrr 


IN  CORNMARKET  STREET.     Draivn  by  T.  H.  Cra-wford. 


ASPECTS 


MODERN  OXFORD 


A   MERE    DON 


fVirn  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

J.  H.  LoRiMBR,  Lancelot  Speed,  T.  H.  Crawford,. 

AND  E.  Stamp 


NEW   YORK 

MACMILLAN   &   CO. 

66  Fifth  Avenue 

1894 


CV5 


7c?z/z 


i_i   u^ 


CONTENTS 


CHAP.  PAGE 

I.     OF   DONS   AND   COLLEGES       ...  i 

IL     OF    UNDERGRADUATES 17 

III.  OF   SIGHTSEERS 35 

IV.  OF   EXAMINATIONS 51 

V.     UNIVERSITY  JOURNALISM       ...  74 

VL     THE   UNIVERSITY  AS   SEEN   FROM 

OUTSIDE 88 

VIL     DIARY   OF   A  DON 105 

VIII.     THE  UNIVERSITY  AS  A  PLACE  OF 

LEARNED   LEISURE 120 


LIST   OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


In  Cornm arret  Street,     ^y  T.  H.  Crawford,    Frontispiece 

In  Christchurch  Cathedral.     By  J.  H.  Lorimer   .  P.  2 

New  College,  Oxford.     By  E.  Stamp     ....  6 

Corpus  Christi  College.     By  J.  H.  Lorimer     .     .  10 

Smoking-room  at  the  Union.     By  T.  H.  Crawford.  14 

Cricket  in  the  Parks.     By  L.  Speed 22 

Waiting  for  the  Cox.     By  L.  Speed 26 

RiNGOAL  in  New  College.      By  L.  Speed.     ...  29 
Golf  at  Oxford.     The  Plateau  Hole  and  Arnold's 

Tree.     By  L.  Speed 32 

Commemoration  :   Outside  the  Sheldonian  Thea- 
tre.    By  T.  H.  Crawford 38 

In  College  Rooms.     By  T.  H.  Crawford ,     ...  40 

A  Ball  at  Christchurch.     By  T.  H,  Crawford    .  42 
The  Deer  Park,  Magdalen  College,  Oxford.     By 

y,  H,  Lorimer 46 

In   Convocation  :    Conferring  a  Degree.      By  E. 

Stamp 48 


viii 


LISr  OF  ILLUSTRjH'IONS 


A  Lecture-Room  in  Magdalen  College.      By  E. 

Stamp 52 

The  Library,  Merton  College.     By  E.  Stamp     .  62 

Reading  the  Newdigate.     By  T.  H.  Crawford  .     .  66 

A  Dance  at  St.  John's.     By  T,  H.  Crawford  .      .  72 

The  Radcliffe.     By  E.  Stamp 76 

In  the  Bodleian.     By  E.  Stamp 80 

Sailing  on  the  Upper  River.     By  L,  Speed.     .     .  86 

Porch  of  St.  Mary's.     By  J.  Pennell    ....  90 

In  Exeter  College  Chapel.     By  E.  Stamp  ...  94 

Parsons'  Pleasure.     By  L.  Speed 102 

Fencing.     By  L.  Speed 103 

Lawn  Tennis  at  Oxford.     By  L.  Speed  .     .     .     .  114 

Bowls  in  New  College  Garden.     By  L.  Speed     .  120 

Coaching  the  Eight.     By  J.  H,  Lorimer     .     .     .  132 

Evening  on  the  River.    By  E,  Stamp 134 


ASPECTS    OF     MODERN 
OXFORD 

I 

OF  DONS  AND  COLLEGES 

*  We  ain't  no  thin  red  heroes,  nor  we  ain't  no  blackguards  too, 
But  single  men  in  barracks,  most  remarkable  like  you.' 

Rudyard  Kipling. 

FELLOWS  of  Colleges  who  travel  on  the 
continent  of  Europe  have,  from  time  to 
time,  experienced  the  almost  insuperable  diffi- 
culty of  explaining  to  the  more  or  less  intelli- 
gent foreigner  their  own  reason  of  existence, 
and  that  of  the  establishment  to  which  they 
are  privileged  to  belong.  It  is  all  the  worse 
if  your  neighbour  at  the  table  d'hote  is  ac- 
quainted with  the  Universities  of  his  own 
country,  for  these  offer  no  parallel  at  all,  and 
to  attempt  to  illustrate  by  means  of  them  is 
not    only  futile   but  misleading.      Define    any 


1  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

college  according  to  the  general  scheme  in- 
dicated by  its  founder ;  when  you  have  made 
the  situation  as  intelligible  as  a  limited  know- 
ledge of  French  or  German  will  allow,  the 
inquirer  will  conclude  that  '  also  it  is  a  monastic 
institution/  and  that  you  are  wearing  a  hair 
shirt  under  your  tourist  tweeds.  Try  to  dis- 
abuse him  of  this  impression  by  pointing  out 
that  colleges  do  not  compel  to  celibacy,  and 
are  intended  mainly  for  the  instruction  of 
youth,  and  your  Continental  will  go  away 
with  the  conviction  that  an  English  Uni- 
versity is  composed  of  a  conglomeration  of 
public  schools.  If  he  tries  to  get  further  in- 
formation from  the  conversation  of  a  casual 
undergraduate,  it  will  appear  that  a  Ruder- 
verein  on  the  Danube  offers  most  points  of 
comparison. 

Fellows  themselves  fare  no  better,  and  are 
left  in  an  —  if  possible  —  darker  obscurity. 
That  they  are  in  some  way  connected  with 
education  is  tolerably  obvious,  but  the  par- 
ticular nature  of  the  connexion  is  unexplained. 
Having   thoroughly    confused    the   subject   by 


IN  CHRISrCHURCH  CATHEDRAL. 
By  J.  H.  Larimer. 


Of  Bons  and  Colleges  3 

showing  inconclusively  that  you  are  neither 
a  monk,  nor  a  schoolmaster,  nor  a  Privat 
Docent,  you  probably  acquiesce  from  sheer 
weariness  in  the  title  of  Professor^  which, 
perhaps,  is  as  convenient  as  any  other;  and, 
after  all,  Professoren  are  very  different  from 
Professors.  But  all  this  does  nothing  to  eluci- 
date the  nature  of  a  College.  To  do  this 
abroad  is  nearly  as  hard  as  to  define  the  func- 
tion of  a  University  in  England. 

For  even  at  home  the  general  uneducated 
public,  taking  but  a  passing  interest  in  educa- 
tional details,  is  apt  to  be  hopelessly  at  sea 
as  to'  the  mutual  relation  of  Colleges  and 
Universities.  In  the  public  mind  the  College 
probably  represents  the  University  :  an 
Oxonian  will  be  sometimes  spoken  of  as 
*  at  College  ; '  University  officials  are  conflised 
with  heads  of  houses,  and  Collections  with 
University  examinations.  That  foundation 
which  is  consecrated  to  the  education  of 
Welsh  Oxonians  is  generally  referred  to  in 
the  remote  fastnesses  of  the  Cymru  as  Oxford 
College.     As  usual,  a  concrete  material  object, 


4  .  .  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

palpable  and  visible,  is  preferred  before  a  cola 
abstraction  like  the  University.  Explain  to 
the  lay  mind  that  a  University  is  an  aggregate 
of  Colleges :  it  is  not,  of  course,  but  the 
definition  will  serve  sometimes.  Then  how 
about  the  London  University,  which  is  an 
examining  body  ?  And  how  does  it  happen 
that  there  is  a  University  College  in  Oxford, 
not  to  mention  another  in  Gower  Street?  and 
that  Trinity  College  across  the  water  is  often 
called  Dublin  University?  All  these  problems 
are  calculated  to  leave  the  inquirer  very  much 
where  he  was  at  first,  and  in  him  who  tries 
to  explain  them  to  shake  the  firm  foundations 
of  Reason. 

It  may  be  a  truism,  but  it  is  nevertheless 
true — according  to  a  phrase  which  has  done 
duty  in  the  Schools  ere  now — that  the  history 
of  the  University  is,  and  has  been  for  the  last 
five  hundred  years,  the  history  of  its  Colleges  ; 
and  it  is  also  true  that  the  interweaving  of 
Collegiate  with  University  life  has  very  much 
complicated  the  question  of  the  student's  reason 
of  existence.       We   do   not,  of  course,  know 


Of  Bons  and  Colleges  5 

what  may  have  been  the  various  motives  which 
prompted  the  bold  baron,  or  squire,  or  yeoman 
of  the  twelfth  or  thirteenth  century  to  send 
the  most  clerkly  or  least  muscular  of  his  sons 
to  herd  with  his  fellows  in  the  crowded  streets 
or  the  mean  hostelries  of  pre-coUegiate  Oxford  ; 
nor  have  we  very  definite  data  as  to  the  kind 
of  life  which  the  scholar  of  the  family  lived 
when  he  got  there.  Perhaps  he  resided  in  a 
*  hall ;'  according  to  some  authorities  there 
were  as  many  as  three  hundred  halls  in  the 
days  of  Edward  I.  ;  perhaps  he  was  master 
of  his  own  destinies,  like  the  free  and  inde- 
pendent unattached  student  of  modern  days — 
minus  a  Censor  to  watch  over  the  use  of  his 
liberties.  But  what  is  tolerably  certain  is  that 
he  did  not  then  come  to  Oxford  so  much  with 
the  intention  of  *  having  a  good  time '  as  with 
the  desire  of  improving  his  mind,  or,  at  least, 
in  some  way  or  other  taking  part  in  the  intel- 
lectual life  of  the  period,  which  then  centred 
in  the  University.  It  might  be  that  among 
the  throngs  of  boys  and  young  men  who 
crowded    the    straitened    limits    of    mediaeval 


6  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

Oxford,  there  were  many  who  supported  the 
obscure  tenets  of  their  particular  Doctor  Per- 
spicuus  against  their  opponents'  Doctor  Inex- 
plicabilis  rather  with  bills  and  bows  than  with 
disputations  in  the  Schools  ;  but  every  Oxonian 
was  in  some  way  vowed  to  the  advance- 
ment of  learning — at  least,  it  is  hard  to  see 
what  other  inducement  there  was  to  face 
what  must  have  been,  even  with  all  due  allow- 
ance made,  the  exceptional  hardships  of  a 
student's  life.  Then  came  the  Colleges — 
University  dating  from  unknown  antiquity, 
although  the  legend  which  connects  its  found- 
ation with  Alfred  has  now  shared  the  fate  of 
most  legends;  Balliol  and  Merton,  at  the  end  of 
the  thirteenth  century;  and  the  succeeding 
centuries  were  fruitfiil  in  the  establishment  of 
many  other  now  venerable  foundations,  taking 
example  and  encouragement  from  the  success 
and  reputation  of  their  earlier  compeers.  In 
their  original  form  colleges  were  probably  in- 
tended to  be  places  of  quiet  retirement  and 
study,  where  the  earnest  scholar  might  peace- 
fully  pursue    his    researches    without   fear    of 


NEW  COLLEGE,  OXFORD. 
Draivn  by  E.  Stam^» 


Of  Dons  and  Colleges  7 

disturbance  by  the  wilder  spirits  who  roamed 
the  streets  and  carried  on  the  traditional  feuds. 
of  Town  and  Gown  or  of  North  and  South. 

By  a  curious  reverse  of  circumstances  the 
collegian  and  the  *  scholaris  nulli  collegia  vel 
aulae  ascriptus '  of  modern  days  seem  to  have 
changed  characters  For  I  have  heard  it  said 
by  those  who  have  to  do  with  college  dis- 
cipline that  their  alumni  are  no  longer 
invariably  distinguished  by  '  a  gentle  nature 
and  studious  habits '  —  qualities  for  which,  as 
the  Warden  of  Merton  says,  colleges  were 
originally  intended  to  provide  a  welcome  haven 
of  rest,  and  which  are  now  the  especial  and 
gratifying  characteristics  of  that  whilom  rois- 
terer and  boon  companion,  the  Unattached 
Student. 

We  have  it  on  the  authority  of  historians 
that  the  original  collegiate  design  was,  pro- 
perly speaking,  a  kind  of  model  lodging-house  ; 
an  improved,  enlarged,  and  strictly  supervised 
edition  of  the  many  hostels  where  the  primitive 
undergraduate  did  mostly  congregate.  Fellows 
and    scholars  alike    were  to    be   studious    and 


8  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

discreet  persons  ;  the  seniors  were  to  devote 
themselves  to  research,  and  to  stand  in  a 
quasi-parental  or  elder-brotherly  relation  to  the 
juniors  who  had  not  yet  attained  to  the  grade 
of  a  Baccalaureus.  Very  strict  rules — probably 
based  on  those  of  monastic  institutions — 
governed  the  whole  body :  rules,  however, 
which  are  not  unnecessarily  severe  when  we 
consider  the  fashion  of  the  age  and  the  com- 
parative youth  of  both  fellows  and  scholars. 
Many  scholars  must  have  been  little  more 
than  children,  and  the  junior  don  of  the 
fifteenth  century  may  often  have  been  young 
enough  to  receive  that  corporal  punishment 
which  our  rude  forefathers  inflicted  even  on 
the  gentler  sex. 

*  Solomon  said,  in  accents  mild, 
Spare  the  rod  and  spoil  the  child  ; 
Be  they  man  or  be  they  maid, 
Whip  'em  and  wallop  'em,  Solomon  said' 

—  and  the  sage's  advice  was  certainly  followed 
in  the  case  of  scholars,  who  were  birched  for 
offences   which     in    these    latter    days    would 


Of  Dons  and  Colleges  9 

call  down  a  *  gate/  a  fine,  or  an  imposition. 
Authorities  tell  us  that  the  early  fellow  might 
even  in  certain  cases  be  mulcted  of  his  dress, 
a  penalty  which  is  now  reserved  for  Irish 
patriots  in  gaol ;  and  it  would  seem  that  his 
consumption  of  beer  was  limited  by  regula- 
tions which  would  now  be  intolerable  to  his 
scout.  Some  of  the  details  respecting  crime 
and  punishment,  which  have  been  preserved 
in  ancient  records,  are  of  the  most  remarkable 
description.  A  former  Fellow  of  Corpus  (so 
we  are  informed  by  Dr.  Fowler's  History 
of  that  College)  who  had  been  proved  guilty 
of  an  over-susceptibility  to  the  charms  of 
beauty,  was  condemned  as  a  penance  to  preach 
eight  sermons  in  the  Church  of  St.  Peter-in- 
the-East.  Such  was  the  inscrutable  wisdom 
of  a  bygone  age. 

Details  have  altered  since  then,  but  the 
general  scheme  of  college  discipline  remains 
much  the  same.  Even  in  the  days  when 
practice  was  slackest,  theory  retained  its  ancient 
stringency.  When  Mr.  Gibbon  of  Magdalen 
absented  himself  from  his  lectures,  his  excuses 


lo  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

were  received  *  with  an  indulgent  smile  ; '  when 
he  desired  to  leave  Oxford  for  a  few  days,  he 
appears  to  have  done  so  without  let  or  hind- 
rance ;  but  both  residence  and  attendance  at 
lectures  were  theoretically  necessary.  The  com- 
promise was  hardly  satisfactory,  but  as  the 
scholars'  age  increased  and  the  disciplinary 
rule  meant  for  fourteen  had  to  be  applied  to 
eighteen,  what  was  to  be  done?  So,  too,  we 
are  informed  that  in  the  days  of  our  fathers 
undergraduates  endured  a  Procrustean  tyranny. 
So  many  chapel  services  you  must  attend  ;  so 
many  lectures  you  must  hear,  connected  or 
not  with  your  particular  studies ;  and  there 
was  no  relaxation  of  the  rule ;  no  excuse 
even  of  ^  urgent  business '  would  serve  the  pale 
student  who  wanted  to  follow  the  hounds  or 
play  in  a  cricket  match.  Things,  in  fact,  would 
have  been  at  a  deadlock  had  not  the  authori- 
ties recognised  the  superiority  of  expediency 
to  mere  morality,  and  invariably  accepted 
without  question  the  plea  of  ill-health.  To 
'put  on  an  aeger^  when  in  the  enjoyment 
of  robust   health    was   after   all    as   justifiable 


CORPUS  CHRISTI  COLLEGE. 

Drawn  by  J.  H.  Larimer, 


Of  "Dons  and  Colleges  1 1 

a  fiction  as  the  *  not  at  home '  of  ordinary 
society.  You  announced  yourself  as  too  ill  to 
go  to  a  lecture,  and  then  rode  with  the 
Bicester  or  played  cricket  to  your  heart's 
content.  This  remarkable  system  is  now  prac- 
tically obsolete  ;  perhaps  we  are  more  moral . 
Modern  collegiate  discipline  is  a  parlous 
matter.  There  are  still  the  old  problems  to 
be  faced — the  difficulty  of  adapting  old  rules 
to  new  conditions — the  danger  on  the  one 
hand  of  treating  boys  too  much  like  men, 
and  on  the  other  of  treating  men  too  much 
like  boys.  Hence  college  authorities  gene- 
rally fall  back  on  some  system  of  more  or 
less  ingenious  compromise — a  course  which 
is  no  doubt  prudent  in  the  long  run,  and  shows 
a  laudable  desire  for  the  attainment  of  the 
Aristotelian  '  mean,'  but  which,  like  most  com- 
promises, manages  to  secure  the  disapproval 
alike  of  all  shades  of  outside  opinion.  We 
live  with  the  fear  of  the  evening  papers 
before  our  eyes,  and  an  erring  undergraduate 
who  has  been  sent  down  may  quite  possibly 
be  avenged  by  a  newspaper  column   reflecting 


1 2  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

on  college  discipline  in  general,  and  the  dons 
who  sent  him  down  in  particular.  Every 
day  martinets  tell  us  that  the  University  is 
going  to  the  dogs  from  excess  of  leniency ; 
while  critics  of  the  '  Boys-will-be-boys '  school 
point  out  the  extreme  danger  of  sitting  per- 
manently on  the  safety  valve,  and  dancing 
on  the  edge  of  an  active  volcano. 

In  recent  years  most  of  the  *  Halls '  have 
been  practically  extinguished,  and  thereby 
certain  eccentricities  of  administration  removed 
from  our  midst.  It  was  perhaps  as  well  ; 
some  of  these  ancient  and  honourable  estab- 
lishments having  during  the  present  century 
rather  fallen  from  their  former  reputation, 
from  their  readiness  to  receive  into  the  fold 
incapables  or  minor  criminals  to  whom  the 
moral  or  intellectual  atmosphere  ot  a  college 
was  uncongenial.  This  was  a  very  convenient 
system  for  colleges,  who  could  thus  get  rid 
of  an  idle  or  stupid  man  without  the  re- 
sponsibility of  blighting  his  University  career 
and  his  prospects  in  general ;  but  the  Halls, 
which   were   thus   turned  into  a  kind  of  sink, 


Of  'Dons  and  Colleges  13 

became  rather  curious  and  undesirable  abiding- 
places  in  consequence.  They  were  inhabited 
by  grave  and  reverend  seniors  who  couldn't, 
and  by  distinguished  athletes  who  wouldn't, 
pass  Smalls,  much  less  Mods.  At  one  time 
*  Charsley's '  was  said  to  be  able  to  play 
the  'Varsity  Eleven.  These  mixed  multitudes 
appear  to  have  been  governed  on  very  various 
and  remarkable  principles.  At  one  establish- 
ment it  was  considered  a  breach  of  courtesy  if 
you  did  not,  when  going  to  London,  give 
the  authorities  some  idea  of  the  probable  length 
of  your  absence.  'The  way  to  govern  a 
college,'  the  venerated  head  of  this  institution  is 
reported  to  have  said,  *  is  this — to  keep  one  eye 
shut^  presumably  the  optic  on  the  side  of  the 
offender.  Yet  it  is  curious  that  while  most  of 
the  Halls  appear  to  have  been  ruled  rather 
by  the  gant  de  velours  than  the  main  de  fer, 
one  of  them  is  currently  reported  to  have  been 
the  scene  of  an  attempt  to  inflict  corporal 
punishment.  This  heroic  endeavour  to  restore 
the  customs  of  the  ancients  was  not  crowned 
with   immediate   success,   and   he   who   should 


14  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

have  been  beaten  with  stripes  fled  for  justice 
to  the  Vice-Chancellor's  Court. 

Casual  visitors  to  Oxford  who  are  acquainted 
with  the  statutes  of  the  University  will  no 
doubt  have  observed  that  it  has  been  found 
unnecessary  to  insist  on  exact  obedience  to  all 
the  rules  which  were  framed  for  the  student 
of  four  hundred  years  ago.  For  instance,  boots 
are  generally  worn ;  undergraduates  are  not 
prohibited  from  riding  horses,  nor  even  from 
carrying  lethal  weapons ;  the  herba  nicotiana 
sive  'Tobacco  is  in  common  use ;  and,  especially 
in  summer,  garments  are  not  so  '  subfusc '  as 
the  strict  letter  of  the  law  requires.  Per- 
haps, too,  the  wearing  of  the  academic  cap 
and  gown  is  not  so  universally  necessary  as 
it  was  heretofore.  All  these  are  matters  for 
the  jurisdiction  of  the  Proctors,  who  rightly 
lay  more  stress  on  the  real  order  and  good 
behaviour  of  their  realm.  And  whatever  evils 
civilisation  may  bring  in  the  train,  there  can 
be  no  doubt  that  the  task  of  these  officials 
is  far  less  dangerous  than  of  old,  as  their 
subjects   are   less   turbulent.       They   have   no 


MWfoHB 


SMOKING-ROOM  AT  THE  UNION, 
Drawn  by  T.  H.  Crawford, 


Of  'Dons  and  Colleges  1 5 

longer  to  interfere  in  the  faction  fights 
of  Northern  and  Southern  students.  It  is 
unusual  for  a  Proctor  to  carry  a  pole-axe, 
even  when  he  is  '  drawing'  the  most 
dangerous  of  billiard-rooms.  The  Town 
and  Gown  rows  which  used  to  provide  so 
attractive  a  picture  for  the  novelist — where 
the  hero  used  to  stand  pale  and  determined, 
defying  a  crowd  of  infuriated  bargemen  — 
are  extinct  and  forgotten  these  last  ten  years. 
Altogether  the  streets  are  quieter  ;  models, 
in  fact,  of  peace  and  good  order  :  when  the 
anarchical  element  is  loose  it  seems  to  prefer 
the  interior  of  Colleges.  Various  reasons  might 
be  assigned  for  this  :  sometimes  the  presence 
of  too  easily  defied  authority  gives  a  piquancy 
to  crime  ;  or  it  is  the  place  itself  which  is 
the  incentive.  The  open  space  of  a  quad- 
rangle is  found  to  be  a  convenient  stage  for 
the  performance  of  the  midnight  reveller.  He 
is  watched  from  the  windows  by  a  ring  of 
admiring  friends,  and  the  surrounding  walls 
are  a  kind  of  sounding-board  which  enhances 
the   natural   beauty   of   '  Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay ' 


1 6  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

(with  an  accompaniment  of  tea-tray  and  poker 
obhligato).  Every  one  has  his  own  ideal  of 
an  enjoyable  evening. 


II 

OF  UNDERGRADUATES 

'  In  the  sad  and  sodden  street 

To  and  fro 
Flit  the  feverstricken  feet 
Of  the  Freshers,  as  they  meet, 

Come  and  go.' 

WHATEVER  the  theory  of  their 
founders,  it  is  at  no  late  period  in 
the  history  of  colleges  that  we  begin  to  trace 
the  development  of  the  modern  undergraduate. 
It  was  only  natural  that  the  '  gentle  natures 
and  studious  habits '  of  a  select  band  of  learners- 
should  undergo  some  modification  as  college 
after  college  was  founded,  and  comparative 
frivolity  would  from  time  to  time  obtain 
admission  to  the  sacred  precincts.  The  Uni- 
versity became  the  resort  of  wealth  and  rank^ 
as  well  as  of  mere  intellect,  and  the  gradual 
influx  of   commoners — still   more,  of  *  gentle- 

c 


1 8  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

men  commoners  * —  once  for  all  determined 
the  character  of  colleges  as  places  of  serious 
and  uninterrupted  study.  Probably  the  Civil 
War,  bringing  the  Court  to  Oxford,  was  a 
potent  factor  in  relaxation  of  the  older  academic 
discipline ;  deans  or  sub-wardens  of  the  period 
doubtless  finding  some  difficulty  in  adapting 
their  rules  to  the  requirements  of  under- 
graduates who  might  from  time  to  time  absent 
themselves  from  chapel  or  lecture  in  order  to 
raid  a  Parliamentary  outpost. 

But  perhaps  the  most  instructive  picture  of 
the  seventeenth-century  undergraduate  is  to  be 
found  in  the  account-book  of  one  Wilding,  of 
Wadham  (published  by  the  Oxford  Historical 
Society),  apparently  a  reading  man  and  a 
scholar  of  his  college,  destined  for  Holy 
Orders.  The  number  of  his  books  (he  gives 
a  list  of  them)  shows  him  to  have  been  some- 
thing of  a  student,  while  repeated  entries  of 
large  sums  paid  for  ^Wiggs'  (on  one  occasion 
as  much  as  14J. — more  than  his  'Battles'  for 
the  quarter!)  would  seem  to  suggest  something 
of   the    habits    of   the     *  gay   young    sparks ' 


Of  Undergraduates  19 

alluded  to  by  Hearne  in  the  next  century. 
On  the  whole,  Master  Wilding  appears  to 
have  been  a  virtuous  and  studious  young 
gentleman.  Now  and  then  the  natural  man 
asserts  himself,  and  he  treats  his  friends  to 
wine  or  *  cofFea,'  or  even  makes  an  excursion 
to  ^Abbington'  (4J. !).  Towards  the  end  of 
his  career  a  *  gaudy '  costs  2i.  6^.,  after  which 
comes  the  too-suggestive  entry,  *  For  a  purge, 
\s.^  Then  comes  the  close  :  outstanding  bills 
are  paid  to  the  alarming  extent  of  ^s.  8^.  ; 
a  'wigg,'  which  originally  cost  14J.,  is  dis- 
posed of  at  a  ruinous  reduction  for  6j. — the 
prudent  man  does  not  give  it  away  to  his 
scout — and  J.  Wilding,  B.A.,  e.  Coll.,  Wadh., 
retires  to  his  country  parsonage — having  first 
invested  sixpence  in  a  sermon.  Evidently  a 
person  of  methodical  habits  and  punctual  pay- 
ments ;  that  had  two  wigs,  and  everything 
handsome  about  him  ;  and  that  probably 
grumbled  quite  as  much  at  the  los.  fee  for 
his  tutor  as  his  modern  successor  does  at  his 
8/.  6 J.  %d.  But,  on  the  whole,  collegiate  and 
university  fees  seem  to  have  been  small. 


20  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

After  this  description  of  the  vie  intime  of 
an  undergraduate  at  Wadham,  history  is 
reserved  on  the  subject  of  the  junior  members 
of  the  University ;  which  is  the  more  disap- 
pointing, as  the  historic  Muse  is  not  only 
garrulous,  but  exceedingly  scandalous  in  re- 
counting the  virtues  and  the  aberrations  of 
eighteenth-century  dons.  Here  and  there  we 
find  an  occasional  notice  of  the  ways  of  under- 
graduates—  here  a  private  memoir,  there  an 
academic  brochure.  We  learn,  incidentally,  how 
Mr.    John    Potenger,    of  New    College,    made 

*  theams  in    prose   and   verse,'    and   eventually 

*  came  to  a  tollerable  proficiency  in  colloquial 
Latin ; '  how  Mr.  Meadowcourt,  of  Merton, 
got  into  serious  trouble — was  prevented,  in 
fact,  fi*om  taking  his  degree — for  drinking  the 
health  of  His  Majesty  King  George  the  First ; 
and  how  Mr.  Carty,  of  University  College, 
sufl^ered  a  similar  fate  *for  prophaning,  with 
mad  intemperance,  that  day,  on  which  he 
ought,  with  sober  chearfulness,  to  have  com- 
memorated the  restoration  of  King  Charles 
the   Second'    (this   was   in    1716)  ;    how   Mr. 


Of  Undergraduates  21 

Shenstone  found,  at  Pembroke  College,  both 
sober  men  *  who  amused  themselves  in  the 
evening  with  reading  Greek  and  drinking 
water,'  and  also  '  a  set  of  jolly  sprightly- 
young  fellows  ....  who  drank  ale,  smoked 
tobacco,'  and  even  *  punned  ; '  and  how  Lord 
Shelburne  had  a  '  narrow  -  minded  tutor.* 
From  which  we  may  gather,  that  University 
life  was  not  so  very  different  from  what  it 
is  now  :  our  forefathers  were  more  exercised 
about  politics,  for  which  we  have  now 
substituted  a  perhaps  extreme  devotion  to 
athletics.  But  for  the  most  part,  the  under- 
graduate is  not  prominent  in  history — seeming, 
in  fact,  to  be  regarded  as  the  least  important 
element  in  the  University.  On  the  other 
hand,  his  successor  of  the  present  century — 
the  era  of  the  Examination  Schools — occupies 
so  prominent  a  place  in  the  eyes  of  the  public 
that  it  is  difficult  to  speak  of  him,  lest  haply 
one  should  be  accused  of  frivolity  or  want  of 
reverence  for  the  raison  d!etre  of  all^  academic 
institutions. 

His    own    reason    of  existence  'is    not    so 


22  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

obvious.  It  was,  as  we  have  said,  tolerably 
clear  that  the  mediaeval  student  came  to 
Oxford  primarily  for  the  love  of  learning 
something,  at  any  rate  ;  but  the  student  fin  de 
Steele  is  one  of  the  most  labyrinthine  parts  of 
a  complex  civilisation.  Of  the  hundreds  of 
boys  who  are  shot  on  the  G.W  R.  platform 
every  October  to  be  caressed  or  kicked  by 
Alma  Mater,  and  returned  in  due  time  full  or 
empty,  it  is  only  an  insignificant  minority  who 
come  up  with  the  ostensible  purpose  of  learning. 
Their  reasons  are  as  many  as  the  colours  of 
their  portmanteaus.  Brown  has  come  up 
because  he  is  in  the  sixth  form  at  school,  and 
was  sent  in  for  a  scholarship  by  a  head-master 
desiring  an  advertisement ;  Jones,  because  it  is 
thought  by  his  friends  that  he  might  get  into 
the  'Varsity  eleven  ;  Robinson,  because  his 
father  considers  a  University  career  to  be  a 
stepping  -  stone  to  the  professions  —  which  it 
fortunately  is  not  as  yet.  Mr.  Sangazur  is 
going  to  St.  Boniface  because  his  father  was 
there  ;  and  Mr.  J.  Sangazur  Smith  —  well, 
probably  because  his  father  wasn't.     Altogether 


Of  Undergraduates  23 

they  are  a  motley  crew,  and  it  is  not  the  least 
achievement  of  the  University  that  she  does 
somehow  or  other  manage  to  impress  a  certain 
stamp  on  so  many  different  kinds  of  metal. 
But  in  this  she  is  only  an  instrument  in  the 
hands  of  modern  civilisation,  which  is  always 
extinguishing  eccentricities  and  abnormal  types; 
and  even  Oxford,  while  her  sons  are  getting 
rid  of  those  interesting  individualities  which 
used  to  distinguish  them  from  each  other,  is 
fast  losing  many  of  the  peculiarities  which  used 
to  distinguish  it  from  the  rest  of  the  world. 
It  is  an  age  of  monotony.  Even  the  Freshman, 
that  delightful  creation  of  a  bygone  age,  is 
not  by  any  means  what  he  was.  He  is  still 
young,  but  no  longer  innocent ;  the  bloom  is 
off  his  credulity  ;  you  cannot  play  practical 
jokes  upon  him  any  more.  Now  and  then  a 
young  man  will  present  himself  to  his  college 
authorities  in  a  gown  of  which  the  superfluous 
dimensions  and  unusual  embroidery  betray  the 
handiwork  of  the  *  provincial  tailor ;  two  or 
three  neophytes  may  annually  be  seen  per- 
ambulating   the   High  in    academic  dress  with 


24  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

a  walking-stick  ;  but  these  are  only  survivals. 
Senior  men  have  no  longer  their  old  privileges 
of  *  ragging'  the  freshman.  In  ancient  times, 
as  we  are  informed  by  the  historian  of  Merton 
College,  '  Freshmen  were  expected  to  sit  on  a 
form,  and  make  jokes  for  the  amusement  of 
their  companions,  on  pain  of  being  "  tucked," 
or  scarified  by  the  thumb-nail  applied  under 
the  lip.  The  first  Earl  of  Shafiiesbury 
describes  in  detail  this  rather  barbarous  jest 
as  practised  at  Exeter  College,  and  relates 
how,  aided  by  some  freshmen  of  unusual  size 
and  strength,  he  himself  headed  a  mutiny 
which  led  to  the  eventual  abolition  of 
*  tucking.*  Again,  on  Candlemas  Day  every 
freshman  received  notice  to  prepare  a  speech 
to  be  delivered  on  the  following  Shrove 
Tuesday,  when  they  were  compelled  to  declaim 
in  undress  from  a  form  placed  on  the  high 
table,  being  rewarded  with  "  cawdel "  if  the 
performances  were  good,  with  cawdel  and  salted 
drink  if  it  were  indifferent,  and  with  salted 
drink  and  "  tucks "  if  it  were  dull.'  This  is 
what    American    students    call    'hazing,'    and 


Of  Undergraduates  25 

the  German  Fuchs  is  subjected  to  similar 
ordeals.  But  we  have  changed  all  that,  and 
treat  the  *  fresher '  now  with  the  respect  he 
deserves. 

Possibly  the  undergraduate  of  fiction  and 
the  drama  may  have  been  once  a  living 
reality.  But  he  is  so  no  more,  and  modern 
realistic  novelists  will  have  to  imagine  some  hero 
less  crude  in  colouring  and  more  in  harmony 
with  the  compromises  and  neutral  tints  of  the 
latter  half  of  the  nineteenth  century.  The 
young  Oxonian  or  Cantab  of  fifty  years 
back,  as  represented  by  contemporary  or 
nearly  contemporary  writers,  was  always  in 
extremes  : — 

'  When  he  was  good  he  was  very,  very  good ; 
But  when  he  was  bad  he  was  horrid,' 

like  the  little  girl  of  the  poet.  He  was  either 
an  inimitable  example  of  improbable  virtue,  or 
abnormally  vicious.  The  bad  undergraduate 
defied  the  Ten  Commandments,  all  and 
severally,  with  the  ease  and  success  of  the 
villain    of    transpontine    melodrama.     Nothing 


26  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

came  amiss   to  him,  from  forgery  to  screwing 
up    the    Dean   and   letting    it    be    understood 
that  some  one  else  had  done  it ;  but  retribution 
generally  came  at   last,  and   this  compound  of 
manifold   vices   was    detected    and    rusticated  ; 
and  it  was  understood  that  from  rustication  to 
the   gallows   was   the    shortest   and    easiest    of 
transitions.     The  virtuous  undergraduate  wore 
trousers  too  short  for  him   and   supported   his 
relations.     He    did    not   generally  join  in  any 
athletic  pastimes,  but  when  the  stroke  of  his 
college     eight     fainted     from    excitement    just 
before  the  start,  the  neglected  sizar  threw  off 
his  threadbare  coat,  leapt  into  the  vacant  seat, 
and  won  his  crew  at  once  the  proud  position 
of  head  of  the  river  by  the  simple  process  of 
making    four    bumps   on   the   same  night,   ex- 
plaining afterwards  that  he  had  practised  in  a 
dingey  and  saw  how  it  could  be  done.     Then 
there  was  the  Admirable  Crichton  of  University 
life,  perhaps  the  commonest  type  among  these 
heroes    of    romance.      He    was    invariably    at 
Christ   Church,    and   very  often   had    a    back- 
ground of  more  or  less  tragic  memories  from 


Of  Undergraduates  27 

the  far-away  days  of  his  jeunesse  orageuse. 
Nevertheless  he  unbent  so  far  as  to  do  nothing 
much  during  the  first  three  and  a  half  years 
of  his  academic  career,  except  to  go  to  a  good 
many  wine  parties,  where  he  always  wore  his 
cap  and  gown  (especially  in  female  fiction), 
and  drank  more  than  any  one  else.  Then, 
when  every  one  supposed  he  must  be  ploughed 
in  Greats,  he  sat  up  so  late  for  a  week,  and 
wore  so  many  wet  towels,  that  eventually  he 
was  announced  at  the  Encaenia,  amid  the 
plaudits  of  his  friends  and  the  approving 
smiles,  of  the  Vice- Chancellor,  as  the  winner 
of  a  Double  -  First,  several  University  prizes, 
and  a  Fellowship  ;  afi:er  which  it  was  only 
right  and  natural  that  the  recipient  of  so  many 
coveted  distinctions  should  lead  the  heroine  of 
the  piece  to  the  altar. 

Possibly  the  Oxford  of  a  bygone  generation 
may  have  furnished  models  for  these  brilliantly 
coloured  pictures ;  or,  as  is  more  probable, 
they  were  created  by  the  licence  of  fiction. 
At  any  rate  the  '  man  *  of  modern  times  is  a 
far     less     picturesque     person  —  unpicturesque 


28  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

even  to  the  verge  of  becoming  ordinary.  He 
is  seldom  eccentric  or  outre  in  externals.  His 
manners  are  such  as  he  has  learnt  at  school, 
and  his  customs  those  of  the  world  he  lives  in. 
His  dress  would  excite  no  remark  in  Piccadilly. 
The  gorgeous  waistcoats  of  Leech's  pencil  and 
Calverley's  *  crurum  non  enarrahile  tegmen  * 
belong  to  ancient  history.  He  is,  on  the 
whole,  inexpensive  in  his  habits,  as  it  is  now 
the  fashion  to  be  poor  ;  he  no^  longer  orders 
in  a  tailor's  whole  shop,  and  his  clubs  are 
generally  managed  with  economy  and  prudence. 
If,  however,  the  undergraduate  occasionall 
displays  the  virtues  of  maturer  age,  there  are 
certain  indications  that  he  is  less  of  a  grown- 
up person  than  he  was  in  the  brave  days  ot 
old.  It  takes  him  a  long  time  to  forget  his 
school-days.  Only  exceptionally  untrammelled 
spirits  regard  independent  reading  as  more 
important  than  the  ministrations  of  their  tutor. 
Pass-men  have  been  known  to  speak  of  their 
work  for  the  schools  as  *  lessons/  and,  in  their 
first  term,  to  call  the  head  of  the  College  the 
head -master.      Naturally,  too,    school -life   has 


Of  Undergraduates  29 

imbued  both  Pass  and  Class  men  with  an 
enduring  passion  for  games — probably  rather 
a  good  thing  in  itself,  although  inadequate 
as  the  be-all  and  end-all  of  youthful  energy. 
Even  those  who  do   not   play  them  can   talk 


about  them.  Cricket  and  football  are  always 
as  prolific  a  topic  as  the  weather,  and  nearly 
as  interesting,  as  many  a  perfunctory  *  Fresher's 
breakfast'  can  testify. 

The  undergraduate,  in  these  as  in  other 
things,  is  like  the  young  of  his  species,  with 
whom,  after  all,  he  has  a  good  deal  in 
common.      Take,  in   short,  the   ordinary  pro- 


JO  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

vincial  young  man  ;  add  a  dash  of  the  school- 
boy and  just  a  touch  of  the  Bursch,  and  you 
have  what  Mr.  Hardy  calls  the  '  Normal 
Undergraduate/ 

It  used  to  be  the  custom  to  draw  a  very 
hard-and-fast  line  of  demarcation  between  the 
rowing  and  the  reading  man  —  rowing  being 
taken  as  a  type  of  athletics  in  general,  and 
indeed  being  the  only  form  of  physical  exercise 
which  possessed  a  regular  organization.  Rumour 
has  it  that  a  certain  tutor  (now  defunct)  laid  so 
much  emphasis  on  this  distinction  that  men 
whose  circumstances  permitted  them  to  be  idle 
were  regarded  with  disfavour  if  they  took  to 
reading.  He  docketed  freshmen  as  reading  or 
non-reading  men,  and  would  not  allow  either 
kind  to  stray  into  the  domain  of  the  other. 
However,  the  general  fusion  of  classes  and 
professions  has  levelled  these  boundaries  now. 
The  rowing  man  reads  to  a  certain  extent,  and 
the  reading  man  has  very  often  pretensions  to 
athletic  eminence ;  it  is  in  fact  highly  desirable 
that  he  should,  now  that  a  'Varsity  'blue*  pro- 
vides an   assistant  master  in  a   school  with  at 


Of  Undergraduates  31 

least  as  good  a  salary  as  does  a  brilliant 
degree.  Yet,  although  the  great  majority  of 
men  belong  to  the  intermediate  class  of  those 
who  take  life  as  they  find  it,  and  make  no 
one  occupation  the  object  of  their  exclusive 
devotion,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that 
there  are  still  extremes — the  Brutal  Athlete 
at  one  end  of  the  line  and  the  bookish  recluse 
(often,  though  wrongly,  identified  with  the 
^Smug')  at  the  other.  The  existence  of  the 
first  is  encouraged  by  the  modern  tendency 
to  professionalism  in  athletics.  Mere  amateurs 
who  regard  games  as  an  amusement  can  never 
hope  to  do  anything  ;  a  thing  must  be  taken 
seriously.  Every  schoolboy  who  wishes  to 
obtain  renown  in  the  columns  of  sporting 
papers  has  his  'record,*  and  comes  up  to  Oxford 
with  the  express  intention  of  'cutting'  some- 
body else's,  and  the  athletic  authorities  of  the 
University  know  all  about  Jones's  bowling 
average  at  Eton,  or  Brown's  form  as  three- 
quarter-back  at  Rugby,  long  before  these 
distinguished  persons  have  matriculated.  Nor 
is   it   only    cricket,    football,  and   rowing   that 


32  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

are  the  objects  of  our  worship.  Even  so  staid 
and  contemplative  a  pastime  as  golf  ranks 
among  *  athletics ; '  and  perhaps  in  time  the 
authorities  will  be  asked  to  give  a  '  Blue '  for 
croquet.  These  things  being  so,  on  the  whole, 
perhaps,  we  should  be  grateful  to  the  eminent 
athlete  for  the  comparative  affability  of  his 
demeanour,  so  long  as  he  is  not  seriously 
contradicted.  He  is  great,  but  he  is  generally 
merciful. 

Thews  and  sinews  have  probably  as  much 
admiration  as  is  good  for  them,  and  nearly  as 
much  as  they  want.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
practice  of  reading  has  undoubtedly  been  popu- 
larised. It  is  no  longer  a  clique  of  students 
who  seek  honours  ;  public  opinion  in  and 
outside  the  University  demands  of  an  increas- 
ing majority  of  men  that  they  should  appear 
to  be  improving  their  minds.  The  Pass-man 
pure  and  simple  diminishes  in  numbers  an- 
nually; no  doubt  in  time  he  will  be  a  kind  of 
pariah.  Colleges  compete  with  each  other  in 
the  Schools.  Evening  papers  prove  by  statistics 
the   immorality   of  an    establishment   where    a 


I 

OS 

< 

to    •^' 


Of  Undergraduates  33 

scholar  who  obtains  a  second  is  allowed  to 
remain  in  residence.  The  stress  and  strain 
of  the  system  would  be  hardly  bearable  were 
it  not  decidedly  less  difficult  to  obtain  a  class 
in  honours  than  it  used  to  be  —  not,  perhaps, 
a  First,  or  even  a  Second;  but  certainly  the 
lower  grades  are  easier  of  attainment.  Then 
the  variety  of  subjects  is  such  as  to  appeal 
to  every  one  :  history,  law,  theology,  natural 
science  (in  all  its  branches),  mathematics,  all 
invite  the  ambitious  student  whose  relations 
wish  him  to  take  honours,  and  will  be  quite 
satisfied  with  a  Fourth ;  and  eminent  specialists 
compete  for  the  privilege  of  instructing  him. 
The  tutor  who  complained  to  the  under- 
graduate that  he  had  sixteen  pupils  was  met 
by  the  just  retort  that  the  undergraduate  had 
sixteen  tutors. 

The  relation  of  the  University  to  the  un- 
dergraduate is  twofold;  it  is  *kept' — as  a 
witty  scholar  of  Dublin  is  fabled  to  have 
inscribed  over  the  door  of  his  Dean,  '  for  his 
amusement  and  instruction' — and  if  the  latter 
is  frequently  formal,  it  is  still  more  often  and 


34  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

in  a  great  variety  of  ways  'informal/  and 
not  communicated  through  his  tutor.  Not  to 
mention  the  many  college  literary  societies — 
every  college  has  one  at  least,  and  they  are 
all  ready  to  discuss  any  topic,  from  the  Origin 
of  Evil  to  bimetallism — there  are  now  in  the 
University  various  learned  societies,  modelled 
and  sometimes  called  after  the  German  Seminar^ 
which  are  intended  to  supplement  the  defici- 
encies of  tuition,  and  to  keep  the  serious 
student  abreast  of  the  newest  erudition  which 
has  been  ^made  in  Germany,'  or  anywhere 
else  on  the  Continent.  Then  there  is  the 
Union  as  a  school  of  eloquence  for  the  political 
aspirant  ;  or  the  ^  private  business '  of  his 
college  debating  society,  where  a  vote  of 
censure  on  Ministers  is  sometimes  emphasised 
by  their  ejection  into  the  quadrangle,  may 
qualify  him  for  the  possible  methods  of  a 
future  House  of  Commons. 


Ill 

OF  SIGHTSEERS 

'  The  women  longed  to  go  and  see  the  college  and  the  tutourJ' 

'  The  Guardian's  Instruction*  by  Stephen  Penton. 

WHEN  the  late  Mr.  Bright  asserted 
that  the  tone  of  Oxford  life  and 
thought  was  'provincial  with  a  difference/ 
great  indignation  was  aroused  in  the  breasts  of 
all  Oxford  men — residents,  at  least;  whether 
it  was  the  provincialism  or  the  *  difference ' 
wherein  lay  the  sting  of  the  taunt.  Probably 
it  was  the  first.  For,  although  it  is  a  tenable 
hypothesis  that  Kleinstadtigkeit  has  really  been 
a  potent  factor  in  the  production  of  much 
that  is  best  in  art  and  literature,  still  nobody 
likes  to  be  called  provincial  by  those  whose 
business  is  in  the  metropolis.  Caesar  said 
that  he  would  rather  be  a  great  man  at 
Gabii,  or  whatever  was  the  Little  Pedlington 
of  Italy,  than  an   ordinary  person   at    Rome  ; 


26  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

but  the  modern  Little  Pedlingtonian  would 
seldom  confess  to  so  grovelling  an  ambition, 
whatever  might  be  his  real  feelings.  He 
would  much  sooner  be  one  of  the  crowd  in 
London  than  mayor  of  his  native  city :  so 
at  least  he  says.  And  so  he  is  very  angry 
if  you  call  him  provincial,  and  venture  to 
insinuate  that  his  views  of  life  are  limited  by 
the  jurisdiction  of  his  Local  Board  or  City 
Council ;  and  thus  the  University  of  Oxford 
refused  for  a  long  time  to  forgive  John 
Bright,  and  did  not  quite  forget  his  strictures 
even  when  it  gave  him  an  honorary  degree 
and  called  him  *  patriae  et  libertatis  amantis- 
simus.'  And  yet  the  authorities  had  done 
what  they  could  to  keep  the  University 
provincial.  It  was  only  after  many  and  deep 
searchings  of  heart  that  the  Hebdomadal 
Council  consented  to  countenance  the  advent 
of  the  Great  Western  Railway  ;  while  the 
t^n  miles  which  separate  Oxford  from  Steventon 
preserved  undergraduates  from  the  contami- 
nating contact  of  the  metropolis  there  was 
still  hope,   but    many    venerable   Tories    held 


Of  Sightseers  37 

that  University  discipline  was  past  praying  for 
when  a  three-hours'  run  would  bring  you  into 
the  heart  of  the  dissipation  of  London.  Some 
there  were  who  could  not  even  imagine  that 
so  terrible  a  change  had  really  taken  place  ;  it 
is  said  that  Dr.  Routh,  the  President  of 
Magdalen,  who  attained  the  respectable  age 
of  ninety-nine  in  the  year  1855  (he  was 
elected  towards  the  close  of  the  last  century 
as  a  warming-pan^  being  then  of  a  delicate 
constitution  and  not  supposed  likely  to  live !), 
persistently  ignored  the  development  of  rail- 
ways altogether ;  when  undergraduates  came 
up  late  at  the  beginning  of  the  winter  term, 
he  would  excuse  them  on  the  ground  of  the 
badness  of  the  roads. 

We  have  changed  all  that,  like  other  pro- 
vincial centres  ;  and  undergraduates  who  want 
to  'see  their  dentist'  —  a  venerable  and  time- 
honoured  plea  which  we  have  heard  ex- 
pressed by  the  delicate-minded  as  '  the  necessity 
for  keeping  a  dental  engagement' — may  now 
run  up  to  town  and  back  between  lunch  and 
*  hall ; '      the      latter     function      having      also 


38  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

marched  with  the  times,  and  even  six-o'clock 
dinner  being  now  almost  a  thing  of  the  past. 
Not  so  long  ago  five  was  the  regular  hour. 
In  the  early  seventies  seven-o'clock  dinner 
was  regarded  as  a  doubtful  innovation ;  and 
there  we  have  stopped  for  the  present.  But 
the  fashionable  world  outside  the  colleges 
imitates  London  customs — always  keeping  a 
little  way  behind  the  age — and  what  has 
been  called  the  '  Parks  System '  actually  dines 
as  late  as  7.45  when  it  is  determined  to 
be  tres  chic.  It  is  only  one  sign  of  the 
influx  of  metropolitan  ideas  ;  but  there 
are  many  others.  Oxford  tradesmen  have 
learnt  by  bitter  experience  that  the  modern 
undergraduate  is  not  an  exclusive  pre- 
serve for  them  like  his  father.  That  re- 
spected county  magnate,  when  he  was  at 
Oriel,  bought  his  coats  from  an  Oxford  tailor 
and  his  wine  from  an  Oxford  wine-merchant, 
to  whom  —  being  an  honest  man  —  he  paid 
about  half  as  much  again  as  he  would  have 
paid  anywhere  in  London,  thereby  recouping 
the    men  of  coats    or  of  wines  for  the  many 


i 

o 
Q 

I  i 

Co         P 

S  a; 
ft; 

I 


Of  Sightseers  39 

bad  debts  made  by  dealing  with  the  transitory 
and  impecunious  undergraduate.  But  his  son 
gets  his  clothes  in  London,  and  his  wine 
from  the  college,  which  deals  directly  with 
Bordeaux.  And  the  tone  and  subject  of  con- 
versation is  changed  too.  Oxford  is  thor- 
oughly up  to  date,  and  knows  all  about  the 
latest  play  at  the  Criterion  and  the  latest 
scandal  in  the  inner  circle  of  London  society  — 
or  thinks  it  does,  at  any  rate  :  there  is  no 
one  who  knows  so  much  about  London  as 
the  man  who  does  not  live  there. 

But  if  Oxford  goes  to  London,  so  does 
London  come  to  Oxford.  Whether  it  be 
fitting  or  not  that  the  site  of  a  theoretically 
learned  University  should  be  in  summer  a 
sort  of  people's  park  or  recreation-ground 
for  the  jaded  Londoner,  the  fact  is  so  :  the 
classes  and  the  masses  are  always  with  us  in 
one  form  or  another.  It  has  become  a  com- 
mon and  laudable  practice  for  East-end 
dergymen  and  the  staff  of  Toynbee  Hall 
and  the  Oxford  House  to  bring  down  their 
flocks  on  Whit-Monday  or    other   appropriate 


40  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

occasions  ;  and  one  may  constantly  see  high 
academic  dignitaries  piloting  an  unwieldy  train 
of  excursionists,  and  trying  to  compress  Uni- 
versity history  into  a  small  compass,  or  to 
explain  the  nature  of  a  college  (of  all  pheno- 
mena most  unexplainable  to  the  lay  mind)  to 
an  audience  which  has  never  seen  any  other 
place  of  education  than  a  Board  school.  As 
for  the  classes,  they  have  raised  the  Eights  and 
'Commem/  to  the  rank  of  regular  engage- 
ments in  a  London  season,  and  they  go  through 
both  with  that  unflinching  heroism  which 
the  English  public  invariably  display  in  the 
performance  of  a  social  duty  :  they  shiver  in 
summer  frocks  on  the  barges,  despite  the  hail 
and  snowstorms  of  what  is  ironically  described 
as  the  *  Summer  '*  term  ;  and  after  a  hard  day'& 
sightseeing  they  enjoy  a  well-earned  repose 
by  going  to  Commemoration  balls,  where  you 
really  do  dance,  not  for  a  perfunctory  two 
hours  or  so,  but  from  8.30  to  6.30  a.m.  In 
spite  of  these  hardships  it  is  gratifying  to  ob- 
serve that,  whether  or  not  the  University  suc- 
ceeds in   its  educational  mission,   it  appears  ta 


Of  Sightseers  41 

leave  nothing  to  be  desired  as  a  place  of 
amusement  for  the  jaded  pleasure  -  seeker. 
People  who  go  to  sleep  at  a  farce  have  been 
known  to  smile  at  the  (to  a  resident)  dullest 
and  least  impressive  University  function. 
Ladies  appear  to  take  an  especial  delight 
in  penetrating  the  mysteries  of  College  life. 
Perhaps  the  female  mind  is  piqued  by  a  subdued 
flavour  of  impropriety,  dating  from  a  period 
when  colleges  were  not'  what  they  are;  or 
more  probably  they  find  it  gratifying  to 
the  self-respect  of  a  superior  sex  to  observe 
and  to  pity  the  notoriously  ineffectual  at- 
tempts of  mere  bachelors  to  render  existence 
bearable.  So  much  for  the  term  ;  and  when 
the  vacation  begins  Oxford  is  generally  in- 
undated by  a  swarm  of  heterogeneous  tourists — 
Americans,  who  come  here  on  their  way 
between  Paris  and  Stratford-on-Avon ;  Ger- 
mans, distinguished  by  a  white  umbrella  and  a 
red  'Baedeker,'  trying  to  realise  that  here, 
too,  is  a  University,  despite  the  absence  of 
students  with  slashed  noses  and  the  altogether 
different     quality^   of    the     beer.     Then   with 


42  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

August  come  the  Extension  students  ;  the  more 
frivolous  to  picnic  at  Nuneham  and  Islip, 
the  seriously-minded  to  attend  lectures  which 
compress  all  knowledge  into  a  fortnight's 
course,  and  to  speculate  on  the  future  when 
they  — the  real  University,  as  they  say — will 
succeed  to  the  inheritance  of  an  unen- 
lightened generation  which  is  wasting  its 
great  opportunities. 

At  Commemoration  a  general  sense  of 
lobster  salad  pervades  the  atmosphere,  and 
the  natural  beauties  of  colleges  are  concealed 
or  enhanced  by  a  profusion  of  planking  and 
red  cloth  ;  the  architectural  merit  of  a  hall 
is  as  nothing  compared  to  the  elasticity  of 
its  floor.  The  Eights,  again,  provide  attrac- 
tions of  their  own,  not  especially  academic. 
The  truly  judicious  sightseer  will  avoid  both 
of  these  festive  seasons,  and  will  choose  some 
time  when  there  is  less  to  interfere  with  his 
own  proper  pursuit — the  week  after  the  Eights, 
perhaps,  or  the  beginning  of  the  October 
term,  when  the  red  Virginia  creeper  makes 
a    pleasing     contrast    with    the  grey  collegiate 


A  BALL  AT  CHRIST  CHURCH. 
Drawn  by  T.  H.  Craivford 


Of  Sightseers  43 

walls.  Nor  will  he,  if  he  is  wise,  allow 
himself  to  be  'rushed'  through  the  various 
objects  of  interest  :  there  are,  it  is  believed, 
local  guides  who  profess  to  show  the  whole 
of  Oxford  in  two  hours  ;  but  rumour  asserts 
that  the  feat  is  accomplished  by  making  the 
several  quadrangles  of  one  college  do  duty  for 
a  corresponding  number  of  separate  establish- 
ments, so  that  the  credulous  visitor  leaves 
Christ  Church  with  the  impression  that  he  has 
seen  not  only  *  The  House,'  but  also  several 
other  foundations,  all  curiously  enough  com- 
municating with  each  other.  And  in  any 
case,  after  a  mere  scamper  through  the 
colleges,  nothing  remains  in  the  mind  but  a 
vague  and  inaccurate  reminiscence,  combining 
in  one  the  characteristics  of  all ;  the  jaded 
sightseer  goes  back  to  London  with  a  for- 
tunately soon-to-be-forgotten  idea  that  Keble 
was  founded  by  Alfred  the  Great,  and  that 
Tom  Quad  is  a  nickname  for  the  Vice- 
Chancellor.  Samuel  Pepys  seems  to  have  been 
to  a  certain  extent  the  prototype  of  this  kind 
of  curiosity   or   antiquity  hunter,    and   paid    a 


44  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

*  shilling  to  a  boy  that  showed  me  the  Colleges 
before  dinner. '  (Curiously  enough,  *  after 
dinner '  the  honorarium  to  *  one  that  showed 
us  the  schools  and  library*  was   lOJ. !) 

He  who  is  responsible  for  the  proper 
conduct  of  a  gang  of  relations  or  friends  will 
not  treat  them  in  this  way.  He  will  en- 
deavour, so  far  as  possible,  to  confine  them 
within  the  limits  of  his  own  college,  where  he 
is  on  his  native  heath,  and,  if  he  is  not  an 
antiquarian,  can  at  least  animate  the  venerable 
buildings  with  details  of  contemporary  history. 
He  will  point  out  his  Dons  (like  the  great 
French  nation,  ^objects  of  hatred  or  admiration, 
but  never  of  indifference ')  with  such  derision 
or  reverence  as  they  may  deserve,  and  affix  to 
them  ancient  anecdotes  whereby  their  per- 
sonality may  be  remembered.  He  will  show 
to  an  admiring  circle  the  statue  which  was 
painted  green,  the  pinnacle  climbed  by  a  friend 
in  the  confidence  of  inebriation,  and  the  marks 
of  the  bonfire  which  the  Dean  did  not  succeed 
in  putting  out.  Even  the  most  ignorant  and 
frivolous-minded    person    can    make    his    own 


Of  Sightseers  45 

college  interesting.  When  he  has  succeeded 
in  impressing  upon  his  friends  the  true 
character  of  a  college  as  a  place  of  religion  and 
sound  learning,  he  may  be  permitted  to  show 
them  such  external  objects  as  form  a  part  of 
every  one's  education,  and  which  no  one  (for 
the  very  shame  of  confessing  it)  can  pretermit 
unseen,  such  as  the  gardens  of  New  College  or 
St.  John's,  the  '  Nose '  of  B.  N.  C,  the  Burne- 
Jones  tapestry  at  Exeter,  or  the  picture  of 
Mr.  Gladstone  in  the  hall  of  Christ  Church. 
Those  who  absolutely  insist  on  a  more  com- 
prehensive view  of  the  University  and  City 
may  be  allowed  to  make  the  ascent  of  some 
convenient  point  of  view — Magdalen  Tower, 
for  instance  ;  it  is  a  stiff  climb,  but  the  view 
from  the  top  will  repay  your  exertions.  This 
is  where,  as  since  the  appearance  of  Mr. 
Holman  Hunt's  picture  everybody  is  probably 
aware,  the  choir  of  the  college  annually  salute 
the  rising  sun  from  the  top  of  the  tower  by 
singing  a  Latin  hymn  on  May  morning — while 
the  youth  of  the  city,  for  reasons  certainly  not 
known  to  themselves,   make   morning    hideous 


4-6  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

with  blowing  of  unmelodious  horns  in  the 
street  below.  At  all  times — even  at  sunrise 
on  a  rainy  May  morning  —  it  is  a  noble 
prospect.  The  unlovely  red-brick  suburbs  of 
the  north  are  hidden  from  sight  by  the  inter- 
vening towers  and  pinnacles  of  the  real 
Oxford ;  immediately  below  the  High  Street 
winds  westwards,  flanked  by  colleges  and 
churches,  of  which  the  prevailing  grey  is 
relieved  by  the  green  trees  of  those  many 
gardens  and  unexplored  nooks  of  verdure  with 
which  Oxford  abounds ;  to  the  south  there 
are  glimpses  of  the  river  flowing  towards  the 
dim  grey  line  of  the  distant  Berkshire  downs. 
To  the  historically-minded  the  outlook  may 
suggest  many  a  picture  of  bygone  times — 
scenes  of  brawling  in  the  noisy  High  Street, 
when  the  old  battle  of  Town  and  Gown 
was  fought  with  cold  steel,  and  blood  flowed 
freely  on  both  sides — in  the  days  when  the 
maltreated  townsman  appealing  to  the  Proctor 
could  get  no  satisfaction  but  a  'thrust  at  him 
with  his  poleaxe ! '  Down  the  street  which 
lies   below    passed    Queen    Elizabeth  —  *  Virgo 


THE  DEER  PARK,  MAGDALEN  COLLEGE,  OXFORD. 
By  J.  H.  Larimer^ 


Of  Sightseers  47 

Pia  Docta  Felix ' — after  being  royally  enter- 
tained with  sumptuous  pageants  and  the  play 
of  'Palamon  and  Arcyte*  in  the  Christ  Church 
hall.  Over  the  Cherwell,  in  the  troublous 
times  of  the  Civil  Wars,  rode  the  Royalist 
horse  to  beat  up  the  Parliamentary  quarters 
below  the  Chiltern  hills  and  among  the  woods 
of  the  Buckinghamshire  border  —  enterprising 
undergraduates  perhaps  taking  an  exeat  to  ac- 
company them.  Here  it  was  that  certain 
scholars  of  Magdalen,  having  a  quarrel  with 
Lord  Norreys  by  reason  of  deer-stealing,  '  went 
up  privately  to  the  top  of  their  tower,  and 
waiting  till  he  should  pass  by  towards  Ricot ' 
(Rycote)  '  sent  down  a  shower  of  stones  upon 
him  and  his  retinew,  wounding  some  and  en- 
dangering others  of  their  lives'  —  and  worse 
might  have  happened  had  not  the  '  retinew ' 
taken  the  precaution,  foreseeing  the  assault, 
to  put  boards  or  tables  on  their  heads.  At 
a  later  day  Pope  entered  Oxford  by  this  road, 
and  there  is  a  pretty  description  of  the  scene 
in  one  of  his  letters — it  will  no  doubt  appeal 
to   the  nineteenth-century  visitor  who  departs 


48  Apcts  of  Modern  Oxford 

through  slums  to  the  architecturally  unimpres- 
sive station  of  the  Great  Western.  *  The 
shades  of  the  evening  overtook  me.  The 
moon  rose  in  the  clearest  sky  I  ever  saw,  by 
whose  solemn  light  I  paced  on  slowly,  without 
company,  or  any  interruption  to  the  range  of 
my  own  thoughts.  About  a  mile  before  I 
reached  Oxford  all  the  bells  tolled  in  different 
notes,  the  clocks  of  every  college  answered  one 
another,  and  sounded  forth  (some  in  a  deeper, 
some  in  a  softer  tone)  that  it  was  eleven  at 
night.  All  this  was  no  ill  preparation  to  the 
life  I  have  led  since  among  those  old  walls, 
venerable  galleries,  stone  porticos,  studious 
walks,  and  solitary  scenes  of  the  University.' 
Jerry-built  rows  of  lodging-houses  rather  mili- 
tate against  the  romance  of  the  Iffley  Road  as 
we  know  it  now. 

But,  after  all,  the  majority  of  sightseers 
are  not  given  to  historical  reflections.  What 
most  people  want  is  something  that  *  palpitates 
with  actuality  ; '  they  want  to  see  the  machine 
working.  They  are  temporarily  happy  if  they 
can  see  a  Proctor  in  his   robes  of  oflice,   and 


IN  C0NV0CAT:I0N :  CONFERRING  A  DEGREE. 
Dranun  by  Ernest  Stamp. 


Of  Sightseers  49 

rise  to  the  enthusiasm  of  *  never  having  had 
such  a  delightful  day '  if  the  Proctor  happens 
to  *  proctorise '  an  undergraduate  within  the 
ken  of  their  vision.  '  It  was  all  so  delightful 
and  mediaeval,  and  all  that  kind  of  thing,  don't 
you  know?  Poor  young  man  —  simply  for  not 
wearing  one  of  those  horrid  caps  and  gowns! 
/  call  it  a  shame.*  This  is  the  reason  why  a 
Degree  Day  is  so  wonderfully  popular  a  cere- 
mony. There  is  a  sense  of  attractive  mystery 
about  it  all — the  Vice- Chancellor  throned  in 
the  Theatre  or  Convocation  House,  discours- 
ing in  unintelligible  scraps  of  Latin  like  the 
refrain  of  a  song,  and  the  Proctors  doing  their 
quarter-deck  walk — although  the  dignity  of  the 
function  be  rather  marred  by  the  undergradu- 
ates who  jostle  and  giggle  in  the  background 
forgetting  that  they  are  assisting  at  a  cere- 
mony which  is,  after  all,  one  of  the  Univer- 
sity's reasons  of  existence.  It  is  the  same 
kind  of  curiosity  which  causes  the  lecturer  to 
become  suddenly  conscious  that  he  is  being 
watched  with  intense  interest  —  an  interest  to 
which  he  is  altogether  unaccustomed — by  *  only 


50  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

a  face  at  the  window '  of  his  lecture-room,  to 
his  own  confusion  and  the  undisguised  amuse- 
ment of  his  audience. 

Such  are  sightseers  :  yet  every  man  to  his 
taste.  When  Samuel  Pepys  came  over  from 
Abingdon  to  see  the  sights  of  the  University 
town,  it  is  gratifying  and  rather  surprising  to 
learn  that  what  most  impressed  him  was  the 
small  price  paid  for  creature  comforts  :  *  Oxford 
mighty  fine  place,*  such  is  the  diarist's  reflec- 
tion, '  and  cheap  entertainment! 


IV 

OF  EXAMINATIONS 

'  Thinketh  one  made  them  in  a  fit  of  the  blues. 


^. 


IF  there  is  one  subject  on  which  the 
professedly  non-reading  undergraduate  is 
nearly  always  eloquent  it  is  the  aggravation 
of  his  naturally  hard  lot  by  the  examination 
system ;  that  is,  not  only  '  The  Schools ' 
themselves,  but  the  ancillary  organization  of 
lectures,  *  collections,'  and  college  tuition  in 
general  ;  all  which  machinery,  being  intended 
to  save  him  from  himself  and  enable  him  to 
accomplish  the  ostensible  purpose  of  his  resi- 
dence at  the  University,  he  very  properly 
regards  as  an  entirely  unnecessary  instrument 
of  torture,  designed  and  perfected  by  the 
gratuitous  and  malignant  ingenuity  of  Dons, 
whose  sole  object  is  the  oppression  of  under- 
graduates in  general  and  himself  in  particular. 


52  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

He  is  obliged  to  attend  lectures,  at  least  oc- 
casionally. His  tutors  compel  him  to  attempt 
to  pass  his  University  examination  at  a  definite 
date  ;  and  then — adding  insult  to  injury — 
actually  reproach  him  or  even  send  him 
down  for  his  ill  success,  just  as  if  he  had  not 
always  demonstrated  to  them  by  repeated 
statements  and  constant  proofs  of  incapacity 
that  he  had  not  the  smallest  intention  of 
getting  through !  Small  wonder,  perhaps,  that 
on  returning  from  a  highly  unsatisfactory  in- 
terview with  the  University  examiners  to  a 
yet  more  exasperating  colloquy  with  the 
authorities  of  his  college,  he  should  wish  that 
fate  had  not  matched  him  with  the  *  cosmic 
process  *  of  the  nineteenth  century  ;  and  that 
It  had  been  his  happier  lot  to  come  up  to 
Oxford  in  the  days  when  examinations  were 
not,  and  his  remote  ancestors  got  their  degrees 
without  any  vain  display  of  mere  intellectual 
proficiency,  or  went  down  without  them  if 
they  chose. 

And  yet,  should  the  modern  undergraduate 
take  the    trouble  (which  of  course    he    never 


A  LECrURE'ROOM  IN  MAGDALEN  COLLEGE, 
Drawn  by  E^  Stamp. 


Of  Examinations  53 

does)  to  acquaint  himself  with  the  statutes 
and  ordinances  which  governed  his  University 
in  the  pre-examination  period,  he  would  find 
that  even  then  the  rose  was  not  wholly  devoid 
of  thorns.  Even  then  the  powers  that  be  had 
decreed  that  life  should  not  be  completely 
beer,  nor  altogether  skittles.  It  is  true  that 
the  student  was  probably  less  molested  by  his 
college  ;  but  the  regulations  of  the  University 
dealt  far  more  hardly  with  him  than  they 
do  at  present.  Under  the  statutes  of  Arch- 
bishop Laud,  the  University  exercised  those 
functions  of  teaching  and  general  supervision 
which  it  has  since  in  great  part  surrendered 
to  its  component  colleges  ;  and  in  theory  the 
University   was  a  hard   task-mistress. 

Attendance  at  professorial  lectures  was 
theoretically  obligatory,  and  '  since  not  only 
reading  and  thought,  but  practice  also,  is  of 
the  greatest  avail  towards  proficiency  in  learn- 
ing,' it  was  required  that  the  candidate  for  a 
degree  should  '  dispute '  in  the  Schools  at  stated 
and  fi*equent  times  during  the  whole  course 
of     his     academic      career.        Beginning      by 


54  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

listening  to  the  disputations  of  his  seniors 
(a  custom  which  perhaps  survives  in  the 
modern  fashion  which  sometimes  provides 
a  'gallery'  at  the  ceremony  of  viva  voce)^ 
he  was  as  time  went  on  required  himself  to 
maintain  and  publicly  defend  doctrines  in  a 
manner  which  would  be  highly  embarrassing 
to  his  modern  successor — *  responding  *  at  first 
to  the  arguments  of  the  stater  of  a  theory, 
and  with  riper  wisdom  being  promoted  to 
the  position  of  *  opponent.'  This  opposing 
and  responding  was  termed  *  doing  generals/ 
'Argufying'  was  the  business  of  the  University 
in  the  seventeenth  century,  and  had  been  so 
for  a  long  time. 

On  the  memorable  occasion  of  Queen 
Elizabeth's  visit  to  Oxford  in  the  year  1566, 
Her  Majesty  was  entertained  intermittently 
with  disputations  on  the  moon's  influence 
on  the  tides,  and  the  right  of  rebellion 
against  bad  government.  Thus,  Archbishop 
Laud  required  of  the  seventeenth  -  century 
undergraduate  so  many  disputations  before 
he  became    a    sophist  a  ^    and    so    many    again 


Of  Examinations  ^^ 

before  he  could  be  admitted  to  the  degree 
of  Bachelor ;  and  if  the  system  had  worked 
in  practice  as  it  was  intended  to  do  in 
theory,  young  Oxford  would  not  have  had 
an  easy  time  of  it.  In  the  days  of  Antony 
Wood's  undergraduate  career  exercises  in  the 
^Schooles'  were  *  very  good.'  *  Philosophy 
disputations  in  Lent  time,  frequent  in  the 
Greek  tongue ;  coursing  very  much,  ending 
alwaies  in  blowes,'  which  Wood  considers  scan 
dalous  ;  but  at  least  it  shows  the  serious  spir- 
it of  the  disputants.  But  a  University  can 
always  be  trusted  to  temper  the  biting  wind 
of  oppressive  regulations  to  its  shorn 
alumni ;  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that 
the  comparative  slackness  and  sleepiness 
of  the  eighteenth  century  —  a  somnolence 
which  it  is  easy  to  exaggerate,  but  im- 
possible altogether  to  deny  —  must  have 
tended  to  wear  the  sharp  corners  off 
the  academic  curriculum.  Indications  that 
this  was  so  are  not  wanting.  After  all, 
there  must  have  been  many  ways  of  avoid- 
ing  originality   in    a    disputation.       A    writer 


56  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

in    *Terrae    Films'     (1720)    states    the    case 
as  follows  : — 

*  All  students  in  the  University  who  are  above 
one  year's  standing,  and  have  not  taken  their 
batchelor '  (of  arts)  '  degree,  are  required  by  statute 
to  be  present  at  this  awful  solemnity*  (disputation 
for  a  degree),  '  which  is  designed  for  a  public  proof 
of  the  progress  he  has  made  in  the  art  of  reasoning ; 
tho'  in  fact  it  is  no  more  than  a  formal  repetition  of 
a  set  of  syllogisms  upon  some  ridiculous  question  in 
logick,  which  they  get  by  rote,  or,  perhaps,  only 
read  out  of  their  caps,  which  lie  before  them  with 
their  notes  in  them.  These  commodious  sets  of 
syllogisms  are  call'd  strings,  and  descend  from  under- 
graduate to  undergraduate,  in  regular  succession  j  so 
that,  when  any  candidate  for  a  degree  is  to  exercise 
his  talent  in  argumentation,  he  has  nothing  else  to 
do  but  to  enquire  amongst  his  friends  for  a  string 
upon  such-and-such  a  question.' 

So,  even  in  the  early  part  of  the  present 
century,  reverend  persons  proceeding  to  the 
degree  of  D.D.  have  been  known  to  avail 
themselves  of  a  thesis  (or  written  harangue  on 
some  point  of  theology)  not  compiled  by  their 
unaided  exertions,  but  kept  among  the  archives. 
of  their  college  and  passed  round  as  occasion 


Of  Examinations  57 

might  require.  If  mature  theologians  have 
reconciled  this  with  their  consciences  in  the 
nineteenth,  what  may  not  have  been  possible 
to  an  undergraduate  in  the  eighteenth  century? 
Also,  the  functionary  who  stood  in  the  place 
of  the  modern  examiner  was  a  very  different 
kind  of  person  from  his  successor — that  in- 
carnation of  cold  and  impassive  criticism  ; 
collusion  between  *  opponent '  and  '  respondent ' 
must  have  been  possible  and  frequent ;  and 
so  far  had  things  gone  that  the  candidate  for 
a  degree  was  permitted  to  choose  the  *  Master  * 
who  was  to  examine  him,  and  it  appears  to 
have  been  customary  to  invite  your  Master 
to  dinner  on  the  night  preceding  the  final 
disputation.  Witness  *  Terrae  Filius  '  once 
more  : — 

'Most  candidates  get  leave  ....  to  chuse  their 
own  examiners,  who  never  fail  to  be  their  old 
cronies  and  toping  companions  ....  It  is  also  well 
known  to  be  the  custom  for  the  candidates  either 
to  present  their  examiners  with  a  piece  of  gold, 
or  to  give  them  a  handsome  entertainment,  and 
make  them  drunk,  which  they  commonly  do  the 
night  before  examination,  and  some  times  keep  them 


58  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

till  morning,  and  so  adjourn,  cheelc  by  jowl,  from 
their  drinking-room  to  the  school,  where  they  are  to 
be  examined.* 

The  same  author  adds :  '  This  to  me  seems 
the  great  business  of  determination :  to  pay 
money  and  get  drunk/ 

Vicesimus  Knox,  who  took  his  B.A.  degree 
in  1775,  is  at  pains  to  represent  the  whole 
process  of  so-called  examination  as  an  elaborate 
farce.  '  Every  candidate,'  he  says,  '  is  obliged 
to  be  examined  in  the  whole  circle  of  the 
sciences  by  three  masters  of  arts,  of  his  own 
choice/  Naturally,  the  temptation  is  too  much 
for  poor  humanity.  '  It  is  reckoned  good 
management  to  get  acquainted  with  two  or 
three  jolly  young  masters  and  supply  them 
well  with  port  previously  to  the  examination.' 
Fiva  voce  once  put  on  this  convivial  footing,  it 
is  not  surprising  that  *  the  examiners  and  the 
candidate  often  converse  on  the  last  drinking 
bout,  or  on  horses,  or  read  the  newspapers,  or 
a  novel,  or  divert  themselves  as  well  as  they 
can  till  the  clock  strikes  eleven,  when  all 
parties  descend,  and  the  testimonium    is   signed 


Of  Examinations  59 

by  the  masters/  Under  such  circumstances  it 
is  obvious  that  the  provisions  of  Archbishop 
Laud  might  be  shorn  of  half  their  terrors. 
Even  at  an  earlier  period  other  methods  of 
evasion  were  not  wanting.  As  early  as  1656, 
orders  were  made  '  abolishing '  the  custom  of 
candidates  standing  treat  to  examiners.  In 
the  statute  which  still  prescribes  the  duties 
of  the  clericus  universitatis^  there  is  a  clause 
threatening  him  with  severe  penalties — to  the 
extent  of  paying  a  fine  of  ten  shillings — should 
he  so  far  misuse  his  especial  charge,  the  Uni- 
versity clock,  as  to  '  retard  and  presently  pre- 
cipitate the  course '  of  that  venerable  time- 
piece, 'in  such  a  manner  that  the  hours  ap- 
pointed for  public  exercises  be  unjustly  short- 
ened, to  the  harm  and  prejudice  of  the 
studious.'  Moreover,  we  read  in  Wood  that 
notice  of  examination  was  given  by  'tickets 
stuck  up  on  certaine  public  corners,  which 
would  be  suddenly  after  taken  downe '  by  the 
candidate's  friends.  To  such  straits  and  to 
such  unworthy  shifts  could  disputants  be 
reduced  by  mere  inability  to  find  matter. 


6o  Aspects  of  Modem  Oxford 

It  has  been  said  that  attendance  at  profes- 
sorial lectures  was  theoretically  obligatory  ;.  but 
it  is  hardly  necessary  to  point  out  that  even 
serious  students  have  occasionally  dispensed 
with  the  duty  of  attending  lectures  ;  and  it  is 
more  than  whispered  there  have  been  occasions 
in  recent  centuries  when  it  was  not  an  audience 
only  that  was  wanting.  There  are,  of  course, 
instances  of  both  extremes.  Rumour  tells  of 
a  certain  professor  of  anatomy,  who,  lacking 
a  quorum,  bade  his  servant  *  bring  out  the 
skeleton,  in  order  that  I  may  be  able  to  address 
you  as  "  gtntltmen ; "  '  but  all  professors  have 
not  been  so  conscientious.  Gibbon  goes  so 
far  as  to  assert  that  *  in  the  University  of 
Oxford,  the  greater  part  of  the  public  professors 
have  for  these  many  years  given  up  altogether 
the  pretence  of  teaching,'  and  the  Reverend 
James  Hurdie  does  not  much  improve  the 
matter,  when  he  prepares  to  refute  the  his- 
torian's charge  in  his  *  Vindication  of  Magdalen 
College.'  So  far  as  the  College  is  concerned, 
the  reverend  gentleman  has  something  of  a 
case  ;  but  his  defence  of  the  University  is  not 


Of  Examinations  6i 

altogether  satisfying.  Some  of  the  professors, 
no  doubt,  do  lecture  in  a  statutable  manner. 
But  *  the  late  noble  but  unfortunate  Professor 
of  Civil  Law  began  his  office  with  reading 
lectures,  and  only  desisted  for  want  of  an 
audience '  (a  plausible  excuse,  were  it  not  that 
some  lecturers  seem  to  have  entertained 
peculiar  ideas  as  to  the  constitution  of  an 
audience.  '  Terrae  Filius  *  has  a  story  of  a 
Professor  of  Divinity  who  came  to  his  lec- 
ture-room, found  to  his  surprise  and  displeasure, 
a  band  of  intending  hearers,  and  dismissed 
them  straightway  with  the  summary  remark  : 
'  Domini,  vos  non  estis  idonei  audit  ores ! ' 
'  The  present  Professor,  newly  appointed  (the 
author  has  heard  it  fi-om  the  highest  authority), 
means  to  read.'  Moreover,  '  the  late  Pro- 
fessor of  Botany  at  one  time  did  read.'  In 
fact,  as  the  *  Oxford  Spy '  observes  in 
1818:— 

*  Yet  here  the  rays  of  Modern  Science  spread  : 
Professors  are  appointed,  lectures  read. 
If  none  attend,  or  hear :  not  ours  the  blame, 
Theirs  is  the  folly  —  and  be  theirs  the  shame.' 


62  Aspcts  of  Modern  Oxford 

It  is  evident  that  professorial  lectures  were  not 
a  wholly  unbearable  burden. 

'  It  is  recorded  in  the  veracious  chronicle 
of  Herodotus  that  Sandoces,  a  Persian  judge, 
had  been  crucified  by  Darius,  on  the  charge  of 
taking  a  bribe  to  determine  a  cause  wrongly; 
but  while  he  yet  hung  on  the  cross,  Darius 
found  by  calculation  that  the  good  deeds  of 
Sandoces  towards  the  king's  house  were  more 
numerous  than  his  evil  deeds,  and  so,  confessing 
that  he  had  acted  with  more  haste  than  wis- 
dom, he  ordered  him  to  be  taken  down  and 
set  at  large/ 

So  when  the  Universities  are  at  last 
confronted  with  that  great  Day  of  Reckon- 
ing which  is  continually  held  over  their  heads 
by  external  enemies,  and  which  timorous  friends 
are  always  trying  to  stave  off  by  grudging 
concessions  and  half-hearted  sympathy  with 
Movements  ;  when  we  are  brought  to  the  bar 
of  that  grand  and  final  commission,  which  is 
once  for  all  to  purge  Oxford  and  Cambridge 
of  their  last  remnants  of  mediaevansm,  and 
bring  them  into  line  with  the  marching  columns 


THE  LIBRARY,  MER70N  COLLEGE. 
J^rfiivn  by  Ernest  Stamps 


OF  THB 

HNIVERSITY 


Of  Examinations  63 

of  modern  Democracy  ;  when  the  judgment 
is  set  and  the  books  are  opened,  we  may  hope 
that  some  extenuating  circumstances  may  be 
found  to  set  against  the  long  enumeration  of 
academic  crimes.  There  will  be  no  denying 
that  Oxford  has  been  the  home  of  dead 
languages  and  undying  prejudice.  It  will  be 
admitted  as  only  too  true  that  Natural  Science 
students  were  for  many  years  compelled  to  learn 
a  little  Greek,  and  that  colleges  have  not  been 
prepared  to  sacrifice  the  greater  part  of  their 
immoral  revenues  to  the  furtherance  of  Uni- 
versity Extension  ;  and  we  shall  have  to  plead 
guilty  to  the  damning  charge  of  having  re- 
turned two  Tory  members  to  several  succes- 
sive Parliaments.  All  this  Oxford  has  done, 
and  more ;  there  is  no  getting  out  of  it. 
Yet  her  counsel  will  be  able  to  plead  in 
her  favour  that  once  at  least  she  has  been 
found  not  retarding  the  rear,  but  actually 
leading  the  van  of  nineteenth-century  pro- 
gress ;  for  it  will  hardly  be  denied  that  if  the 
Universities  did  not  invent  the  Examination 
System,  at  least  they  were   among  the  first  to 


64  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

welcome  and  to  adapt  it  ;  and  that  if  it  had 
not  been  for  the  development  of  examinations, 
qualifying  and  competitive,  at  Oxford  and  Cam- 
bridge, the  ranks  of  the  Civil  Service  would 
have  continued  for  many  years  longer  to  be 
recruited  by  the  bad  old  method  of  nomination 
(commonly  called  jobbery  and  nepotism  by 
the  excluded),  and  society  would,  perhaps, 
never  have  realised  that  a  knowledge  of 
Chaucer  is  among  the  most  desirable  qualifi- 
cations for  an  officer  in  Her  Majesty's  Army. 
Here,  at  least,  the  Universities  have  been  privi- 
leged to  set  an  example. 

The  Oxford  examination  system  is  practi- 
cally contemporaneous  with  the  century  ;  the 
first  regular  class  list  having  been  published 
in  1807.  The  change  was  long  in  coming, 
and  when  it  did  come  the  face  of  the  Uni- 
versity was  not  revolutionised  ;  if  the  altera- 
tion contained,  as  it  undoubtedly  did,  the  germs 
of  a  revolution  which  was  to  extend  far  be- 
yond academic  boundaries,  it  bore  the  aspect 
of  a  most  desirable  but  most  moderate  re- 
form.    Instead   of  obtaining  a   degree   by  the 


Of  Examinations  65 

obsolete  process  of  perfunctory  disputation, 
ambitious  men  were  invited  to  offer  certain 
books  (classical  works  for  the  most  part),  and 
in  these  to  undergo  the  ordeal  of  a  written 
and  oral  examination  ;  the  oral  part  being  at 
that  time  probably  as  important  as  the  other. 
Sudden  and  violent  changes  are  repugnant  to 
all  Englishmen,  and  more  especially  to  the 
rulers  of  Universities,  those  homes  of  ancient 
tradition  ;  and  just  as  early  railways  found  it 
difficult  to  escape  from  the  form  of  the  stage- 
coach and  the  old  nomenclature  of  the  road, 
so  the  new  Final  Honour  School  took  over 
(so  to  speak)  the  plant  of  a  system  which  it 
superseded.  Viva  voce  was  still  (and  is  to  the 
present  day)  important,  because  it  was  the 
direct  successor  of  oral  disputation.  The  can- 
didate for  a  degree  had  obtained  that  distinc- 
tion by  a  theoretical  argument  with  three 
*  opponents '  in  the  Schools ;  so  now  the 
opponents  were  represented  by  a  nearly  corre- 
sponding number  of  examiners,  and  the  viva 
voce  part  of  the  examination  was  for  a  long 
time  regarded  as  a  contest  of  wit  between  the 

F 


66  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

candidate  and  the  questioner.  Nor  did  the 
race  for  honours  affect  the  great  majority  of 
the  University  as  it  does  at  present.  It  was 
intended  for  the  talented  few  :  it  was  not  a 
matter  of  course  that  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry 
should  go  in  for  honours  because  their  friends 
wished  it,  or  because  their  college  tutor 
wished  to  keep  his  college  out  of  the  evening 
papers.  Candidates  for  honours  were  regarded 
as  rather  exceptional  persons,  and  a  brilliant 
performance  in  the  Schools  was  regarded  as 
a  tolerably  sure  augury  of  success  in  life  :  a 
belief  which  was,  perhaps,  justified  by  facts 
then,  but  which — like  most  beliefs,  dying  hard 
—  has  unfortunately  survived  into  a  state  of 
society  where  it  is  impossible  to  provide  the 
assurance  of  a  successful  career  for  all  and 
each  of  the  eighty  or  hundred  *  first-class '  men 
whom  the  University  annually  presents  to  an 
unwelcoming  world. 

However  small  its  beginnings  it  was  in- 
evitable that  the  recognition  of  intellect  should 
exercise  the  greatest  influence  —  though  not 
immediately    and   obviously — on  the  future  of 


READING  THE  NEfFDIGATE. 
Drawn  by  T.  H.  Crawford^ 


Of  Examinations  67 

the  University.  La  carriere  once  ouverte  aux 
talents  —  the  fact  being  established  and  re- 
cognised that  one  man  was  intellectually  not 
only  as  good  as  another,  but  a  deal  better — 
colleges  could  not  help  following  the  example 
set  them ;  the  first  stirrings  of  *  inter-collegiate 
competition '  began  to  be  felt,  and  afi:er  forty 
years  or  so  (for  colleges  generally  proceed  in 
these  and  similar  matters  with  commendable 
caution,  and  it  was  only  the  earlier  part  of 
the  nineteenth  century  after  all)  began  the 
gradual  abolition  of  *  close '  scholarships  and 
fellowships  —  those  admirable  endowments 
whereby  the  native  of  some  specified  county 
or  town  was  provided  with  a  competence  for 
life,  solely  in  virtue  of  the  happy  accident  of 
birth.  To  disregard  talent  openly  placarded 
and  certificated  was  no  longer  possible.  The 
most  steady -going  and  venerable  institutions 
began  to  be  reanimated  by  the  infusion  of 
new  blood,  and  to  be  pervaded  by  the  newest 
and  most  *  dangerous '  ideas. 

Nor  were  the  outside  public  slow  to  avail 
themselves  after  their  manner  of  the  changed 


68  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

state  of  things.  The  possessor  of  a  University 
degree  has  at  all  times  been  regarded  by  less 
fortunate  persons  with  a  kind  of  superstitious 
awe,  as  one  who  has  lived  in  mysterious  pre- 
cincts and  practised  curious  (if  not  always 
useful)  arts,  and  at  first  the  title  of  *  Honour- 
man/  implying  that  the  holder  belonged  to  a 
privileged  few  —  elite  of  the  elites  —  whom  a 
University,  itself  learned,  had  delighted  to 
honour  for  their  learning,  could  inspire  nothing 
less  than  reverence.  Also  the  distinction  was  a 
very  convenient  one.  The  public  is  naturally 
only  too  glad  to  have  any  ready  and  satis- 
factory testimonial  which  may  help  as  a  method 
of  selection  among  the  host  of  applicants 
for  its  various  employments  ;  and  here  was  a 
diploma  signed  by  competent  authorities  and 
bearing  no  suspicion  of  fear  or  favour.  Pre- 
sently the  public  began  to  follow  the  lead  of 
Oxford  and  Cambridge,  and  examine  for  itself, 
but  that  is  another  story  :  schoolmasters  more 
especially  have  always  kept  a  keen  eye  on 
the  class  list.  So  an  intellectual  distinction 
comes   in   time    to  have    a    commercial   price, 


Of  Examinations  69 

and  this  no  doubt  has  had  something  (though, 
we  will  hope,  not  everything)  to  do  with  the 
increase  in  the  number  of  *  Schools '  and  the 
growing  facilities  for  obtaining  so-called  hon- 
ours. But  it  is  needless  to  observe  that  the 
multiplication  of  the  article  tends  to  the  de- 
preciation of  its  value.  The  First-class  man, 
who  was  a  potential  Cabinet  Minister  or  an 
embryo  Archbishop  at  the  beginning  of  the 
century,  is  now  capable  of  descending  to  all 
kinds  of  employments.  He  does  not  indeed  — 
being  perhaps  conscious  of  incapacity — serve  as 
a  waiter  in  a  hotel,  after  the  fashion  of  Ameri- 
can students  in  the  vacation,  but  he  has  been 
known  to  accept  gratefully  a  post  in  a  private 
school  where  his  tenure  of  office  depends 
largely  on  the  form  he  shows  in  bowling  to 
the  second  eleven. 

Here  in  Oxford,  though  we  still  respect  a 
*  First,'  and  though  perhaps  the  greater  part 
of  our  available  educational  capacity  is  devoted 
to  the  conversion  of  passmen  into  honour- 
men,  there  are  signs  that  examinations  are  no 
longer   quite    regarded    as    the    highest    good 


70  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

and  the  chief  object  of  existence.  It  is  an 
age  of  specialism,  and  yet  it  is  hard  to  mould 
the  whole  University  system  to  suit  the  parti- 
cular studies  of  every  specialist.  Multiply 
Final  Schools  as  you  will,  'the  genuine  student' 
with  one  engrossing  interest  will  multiply  far 
more  quickly ;  and  just  as  the  athlete  and  non- 
reading  man  complains  that  the  schools  inter- 
rupt his  amusements,  the  man  who  specialises 
on  the  pips  of  an  orange,  or  who  regards  noth- 
ing in  history  worth  reading  except  a  period 
of  two  years  and  six  months  in  the  later 
Byzantine  empire,  will  pathetically  lament  that 
examinations  are  interrupting  his  real  work. 
Are  men  made  for  the  Schools,  or  the  Schools 
for  men  ^  It  is  a  continual  problem  ;  perhaps 
examinations  are  only  a  pis  aller^  and  we  must 
be  content  to  wait  till  science  instructs  us  how 
to  gauge  mental  faculty  by  experiment  without 
subjecting  the  philosopher  to  the  ordeal  of  Latin 
Prose,  and  the  '  pure  scholar '  to  the  test  of  a 
possibly  useless  acquaintance  with  the  true  in- 
wardness of  Hegelianism.  After  all  it  is  the 
greatest  happiness  of  the  greatest  number  that 


Of  Examinations  71 

lias  to  be  considered,  and  the  majority  as  yet 
are  not  special  students.  Moreover,  there  are 
various  kinds  of  specialists.  If  '  general  know- 
ledge '  (as  has  been  said)  is  too  often  synony- 
mous with  *  particular  ignorance,'  it  is  equally 
true  that  specialism  in  one  branch  is  some- 
times not  wholly  unconnected  with  failure  in 
another. 

It  was  the  severance  of  another  link  with 
the  past  when  the  scene  of  examinations  was 
transferred  from  the  'Old  Schools' — the  pur- 
lieus of  the  Sheldonian  and  the  Bodleian — to 
a  new  and  perhaps  unnecessarily  palatial  build- 
ing in  the  High  Street,  which  is  as  little  in 
keeping  with  the  dark,  crumbling  walls  of  its 
neighbour.  University  College,  as  the  motley 
throng  of  examinees  (^^ueri  innuptaeque  puellae) 
•is  out  of  harmony  with  the  traditions  of  an 
age  which  did  not  recognise  the  necessity  of 
female  education.  We  have  changed  all  that, 
and  possibly  the  change  is  for  the  better,  for 
while  the  atmosphere  which  pervaded  the 
ancient  dens  now  appropriated  to  the  use  of 
the  great  library  was  certainly   academic,    and 


72  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

was  sometimes  cool  and  pleasant  in  summer^ 
the  conditions  of  the  game  became  almost  in- 
tolerable in  winter.  Unless  he  would  die  under 
the  process  of  examinations  like  the  Chinese 
of  story,  the  candidate  must  provide  himself 
with  greatcoats  and  rugs  enough  (it  was  said) 
to  hide  a  *  crib/  or  even  a  Liddell  and  Scott, 
for  the  proximity  of  the  Bodleian  forbade  any 
lighting  or  warming  apparatus.  But  in  the  new 
examination  schools  comfort  and  luxury  reign  ; 
rare  marbles  adorn  even  the  least  conspicuous 
corners,  and  the  only  survivals  of  antiquity  are 
the  ancient  tables,  which  are  popularly  supposed 
to  be  contemporaneous  with  the  examination 
system,  and  are  bescrawled  and  bescratched 
with  every  possible  variety  of  inscription  and 
hieroglyphic  —  from  adaptations  of  verses  in 
the  Psalms  to  a  list  of  possible  Derby  win- 
ners— from  a  caricature  of  the  'invigilating* 
examiner  to  a  sentimental  but  unflattering 
reminiscence  of  one's  partner  at  last  night's, 
dance.  Here  they  sit,  a  remarkable  medley, 
all  sorts,  conditions,  and  even  ages  of  men,„ 
herded  together   as   they   probably   never  will 


A  DANCE  AT  ST.  JOHN'S. 
Drawn  by  T.  Hamilton  Craivford^  R,W,S, 


Of  Examinations  73 

be  again  in  after-life  :  undeserving  talent  cheek 
by  jowl  with  meritorious  dulness ;  callow 
youth  fresh  from  the  rod  of  the  schoolmaster, 
and  mature  age  with  a  family  waiting  anxiously 
outside ;  and  a  minority  of  the  fairer  sex, 
whose  presence  is  rather  embarrassing  to 
examiners  who  do  not  see  their  way  to 
dealing  with  possible  hysteria.  And  in  the 
evening  they  will  return — if  it  is  Commemora- 
tion week  ;  the  venerable  tables  will  be 
cleared  away,  and  the  *  Scholae  Magnae  Borealis 
et  Australis'  will  be  used  for  the  more  desir- 
able purpose  of  dancing.  Is  it  merely  soft 
nothings  that  the  Christ  Church  undergraduate 
is  whispering  to  that  young  lady  from 
Somerville  Hall,  as  they  ^  sit  out '  the  lancers 
in  the  romantic  light  of  several  hundred 
Chinese  lanterns }  Not  at  all ;  they  are  com- 
paring notes  about  their  viva  voce  in  history. 


V 

UNIVERSITY  JOURNALISM 

'  I  only  wish  my  critics  had  to  write 
A  High-class  Paper  !  ' 

Anon, 

THE  business  of  those  who  teach  in  the 
Universities  is  to  criticise  mistakes, 
and  criticism  of  style  has  two  results  for  the 
master  and  the  scholar.  It  may  produce  that 
straining  after  correctness  in  small  matters 
which  the  cold  world  calls  pedantry  ;  and  in 
the  case  of  those  who  are  not  content  only  to 
observe,  but  are  afflicted  with  a  desire  to 
produce,  criticism  of  style  takes  the  form  of 
parody  or  imitation  ;  for  a  good  parody  or 
a  good  imitation  of  an  author's  manner  is  an 
object-lesson  in  criticism.  Hence  it  is  that 
that  same  intolerance  of  error  which  makes 
members  of  a  University  slow  in  the  produc- 
tion of  really  great  works  stimulates  the 
genesis    of    ephemeral    and    mostly    imitative 


University  Journalism  75 

literature.  The  more  Oxford  concerns  herself 
with  literary  style,  the  more  she  is  likely  in 
her  less  serious  moods  to  ape  the  manner  of 
contemporary  literature.  It  all  comes,  in  the 
first  instance,  of  being  taught  to  copy  Sophocles 
and  travesty  Virgil.  Ephemeral  literature, 
then,  at  the  Universities  has  always  been 
essentially  imitative.  In  the  last  century,  when 
it  was  the  fashion  to  be  classical — and  when 
as  in  the  earlier  poems  of  Mr.  Barry  Lyndon, 
*Sol  bedecked  the  verdant  mead,  or  pallid 
Luna  shed  her  ray '  —  Oxonian  minor  poets 
imitated  the  London  wits  and  sang  the  charms 
of  the  local  belles  under  the  sobriquets  of 
Chloe  and  Delia,  and  academic  essayists  copied 
the  manner  of  the  '  Spectator,'  and  hit  off 
the  weaknesses  of  their  friends,  Androtion  and 
Clearchus  ;  and  now  that  the  world  has  come 
to  be  ruled  by  newspapers,  it  is  only  natural 
that  the  style  and  the  methods  of  the  daily 
and  weekly  press  should  in  some  degree  affect 
the  lighter  literature  of  Universities,  and  that 
not  only  undergraduates,  who  are  naturally 
imitative,  but   even  dons,  who  might  be  sup- 


76  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

posed  to  know  better,  should  find  themselves 
contributing  to  and  redacting  publications 
which  are  conducted  more  or  less  on  the  lines 
of  the  '  new  journalism/ 

Oxford  has  been  slow  to  develop  in  this 
particular  direction,  and  the  reasons  are  not  far 
to  seek.  The  conditions  just  now  are  ex- 
ceptionally favourable  —  that  is,  a  cacoethes 
scrihendi  has  coincided  with  abundance  of 
matter  to  write  about,  but  the  organs  of  the 
great  external  world  naturally  provide  a  model 
for  the  writer.  But  it  is  only  recently  that 
these  causes  have  been  all  together  present 
and  operative,  and  the  absence  of  one  or 
more  of  them  has  at  different  times  been  as 
effectual  as  the  absence  of  all.  In  the  early 
part  of  the  present  century  there  can  have  been 
no  lack  of  matter  :  University  reform  was  at 
least  in  the  air,  athletics  were  developing,  the 
examination  system  was  already  in  full  swing. 
But  for  some  reason  the  tendency  of  the 
University  was  not  in  the  direction  of  the  pro- 
duction of  ephemeral  or  at  least  frivolous 
literature.      The    pompous    Toryism    of    Uni- 


THE  RADCLIFFE. 

Draivn  by  Ernest  Stamp. 


University  Journalism  77 

versity  authorities  seventy  years  ago  did  not 
encourage  any  intellectual  activity  unconnected 
with  the  regular  curriculum  of  the  student, 
and  when  intellectual  activity  began  to  develop, 
it  was  rather  on  the  lines  of  theological  dis- 
cussion— the  subjects  were  hardly  fitted  for 
the  columns  of  a  newspaper.  At  an  earlier 
date  the  Vice-Chancellor  was  interviewed  by 
the  delegate  of  an  aspiring  clique  of  under- 
graduates, who  wished  to  form  a  literary  club 
and  to  obtain  the  sanction  of  authority  for  its 
formation.  He  refused  to  grant  the  society  any 
formal  recognition,  on  the  ground  that  while  it 
was  true  that  the  statutes  did  not  absolutely 
forbid  such  things,  they  certainly  did  not 
specifically  mention  them;  and  the  members  of 
the  club — when  it  was  eventually  founded  inde- 
pendent of  the  Vice-Cancellarial  auspices — were 
known  among  their  friends  as  the  '  Lunatics.' 
Such  was  the  somewhat  obscurantist  temper  of 
the  University  about  the  year  1820;  and  we  can 
imagine  that  the  Vice-Chancellor,  who  could  find 
nothing  in  the  statutes  encouraging  a  debating 
society,  would  not  have  looked  with  enthusiastic 


78  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

approbation  on  a  newspaper  designed  to  discuss 
University  matters  without  respect  for  authority. 
Even  if  he  had,  it  would  have  been  hard  to 
appeal  to  all  sections  of  the  community  ;  though 
there  was  certainly  more  general  activity  in  the 
University  than  formerly,  the  gaudia  and  dis- 
cursus  of  undergraduates  were  matters  of  com- 
paratively small  importance  to  their  friends,  and 
of  none  at  all  to  their  pastors  and  masters. 

In  the  earlier  part  of  the  eighteenth  century 
the  conditions  were  exactly  reversed.  To  judge 
from  the  specimens  that  have  survived  to  the 
present  day  (and  how  much  of  our  own  lighter 
literature  will  be  in  evidence  170  years  hence.?) 
there  must  have  been  plenty  of  '  available 
talent.'  It  was  an  age  of  essayists.  Addison 
and  Steele  set  the  fashion  for  the  metropolis  : 
and  as  has  been  said  before,  Oxford  satirists 
followed  at  some  distance  in  the  wake  of  these 
giants.  The  form  of  *  Terrae  Filius  '  is  that 
of  the  'Tatler'  and  *  Spectator,'  and  the  *  Oxford 
Magazine '  of  that  day  is  largely  composed  of 
essays  on  men,  women,  and  manners ;  many 
are  still   quite   readable,  and    most  have    been 


University  Journalism  79 

recognised  as  remarkably  smart  in  their  day. 
Nor  is  it  only  in  professed  and  formal  satire 
that  the  talent  of  the  time  displays  itself. 
Thomas  Hearne  of  the  Bodleian  was  careful 
to  keep  a  voluminous  note-book,  chronicling 
not  only  the  ^plums'  extracted  by  his  daily  re- 
searches from  the  dark  recesses  of  the  library, 
but  also  various  anecdotes,  scandalous  or  re- 
spectable, of  his  contemporaries  ;  and  one  is 
tempted  to  regret  that  so  admirable  a  talent  for 
bepraising  his  friends  and  libelling  his  enemies 
should  be  comparatively  perdu  among  extracts 
from  '  Schoppius  de  Arte  Critica,'  copies  of 
church  brasses,  and  such-like  antiquarian  lumber 
— the  whole  forming  a  *  Collection'  only  recently 
published  for  the  world's  edification  by  the 
Oxford  Historical  Society.  His  *  appreciations ' 
would  have  made  the  fortune  of  any  paper 
relying  for  its  main  interest  on  personalities, 
after  the  fashion  which  we  are  learning  from 
the  Americans.  Descriptions  of  his  friends 
and  enemies,  such  as  '  An  extravagant,  haughty, 
loose  man,'  '  a  Dull,  Stupid,  whiggish  Com- 
panion,'   are  frequent  and  free  ;    and  anecdotes 


8o  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

of  obscure  college  scandal  abound.  We  read 
how  the  '  Snivelling,  conceited,  and  ignorant, 
as  well  as  Fanatical  Vice-Principal  of  St. 
Edmund  Hall  ....  scone  d  two  gentlemen, 
which    is    a    Plain    Indication    of  his    Furious 

Temper ; '     and    how    *  Mr.    of    Christ 

Church  last  Easter-day^  under  pretence  of 
being  ill,  desired  one  of  the  other  chaplains 
to  read  Prayers  for  him :  which  accordingly 
was  done.  Yet  such  was  the  impudence  of 
the  man  that  he  appeared  in  the  Hall  at 
dinner ! ' 

As  it  was,  however,  those  very  collections 
which  exhibit  Hearne's  peculiar  genius  show 
us  at  the  same  time  how  impossible,  even 
granting  the  supposition  to  be  not  altogether 
anachronistic,  a  regular  University  'News-letter' 
would  have  been.  We  talk  now  in  a  vague 
and,  perhaps,  rather  unintelligible  fashion  of 
*  University  politics,'  and  in  some  way  contrive 
to  identify  Gladstonianism  with  a  susceptibility 
to  the  claims  of  a  school  of  English  literature, 
or  whatever  is  the  latest  phrase  of  progress — 
mixing  up  internal  legislation  with  the  external 


IN  THE  BODLEIAN. 
Grown  by  Ernest  Stamf, 


University  Journalism  8i 

politics  of  the  great  world.  But  in  Hearne's 
time  there  were  no  University  politics  to 
discuss.  '  Their  toasts/  says  Gibbon  of  the 
Fellows  of  Magdalen  College,  'were  not  ex- 
pressive of  the  most  lively  loyalty  to  the 
House  of  Hanover/  and  Hearne's  interest  in 
politics  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  Hebdomadal 
Council.      When    he    speaks    of  '  our    white - 

iiver'd    Professor,  Dr.  ,'   or   describes  the 

highest  official  in  the  University  as  *old  Smooth- 
boots,  the  Vice-Chancellor,'  it  is  generally  for 
the  very  sufficient  reason  that  the  person  in 
question  is  what  Dr.  Johnson  called  a  *  vile 
Whig.'  But  Tory  politics  and  common-room 
scandal  and  jobbery  apart,  the  University 
would  appear  to  have  slept  the  sleep  of  the 
unjust.  'Terrae  Filius'  grumbles  at  the  corrupt 
method  of  '  examination,'  and  '  The  Student '  is 
lively  and  satirical  on  the  peccadilloes  and 
escapades  of  various  members  of  society.  But 
your  prose  essayist  is  apt  to  be  intermittent, 
and  the  publication  that  relies  mainly  on  him 
leans  on  a  breaking  reed ;  so  that  we  can 
hardly     be     surprised     that     the     last-named 


82  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

periodical  should  eke  out  its  pages  with 
imitations  of  TibuUus,  to  the  first  of  which 
the  Editor  appends  the  encouraging  note,  *  If 
this  is  approved  by  the  publick,  the  Author 
will  occasionally  oblige  us  with  more  Elegies 
in  the  same  style  and  manner.' 

Now  that  every  one  is  anxious  to  see  his 
own  name  and  his  friend's  name  in  print,  and 
that  the  general  public  takes,  or  pretends  to 
take,  a  keen  interest  in  the  details  of  every 
cricket-match  and  boat-race,  a  paper  chronicling 
University  matters  cannot  complain  of  the 
smallness  of  its  clientele.  Every  one  wants 
news.  The  undergraduate  who  has  made  a 
speech  at  the  Union,  or  a  century  for  his 
college  second  eleven,  wants  a  printed  certifi- 
cate of  his  glorious  achievements.  Dons,  and 
undergraduates  too,  for  that  matter,  are 
anxious  to  read  about  the  last  hint  of  a 
possible  Commission  or  the  newest  thing  in 
University  Extension.  Men  who  have  gone 
down  but  a  short  time  ago  are  still  interested 
in  the  doings  of  the  (of  course  degenerate) 
remnant   who   are   left: ;    and    even    the    non- 


University  Journalism  83 

academic  Oxford  residents,  a  large  and  in- 
creasing class,  are  on  the  watch  for  some  glimpse 
of  University  doings,  and  some  distant  echo 
of  common-room  gossip.  Modern  journalism 
appeals  more  or  less  to  all  these  classes ;  it 
cannot  complain  of  the  want  of  an  audience, 
nor,  on  the  whole,  of  a  want  of  news  to  satisfy 
it,  and  certainly  an  Oxford  organ  cannot  lack 
models  for  imitation,  or  awful  examples  to 
avoid.  It  is,  in  fact,  the  very  multiplicity  of 
contemporary  periodicals  that  is  the  source  of 
difficulty.  A  paper  conducted  in  the  provinces 
by  amateurs — that  is,  by  persons  who  have  also 
other  things  to  do — is  always  on  its  probation. 
The  fierce  light  of  the  opinion  of  a  limited 
public  is  continually  beating  on  it.  Its  con- 
tributors should  do  everything  a  little  better 
than  the  hirelings  of  the  merely  professional 
organs  of  the  unlearned  metropolis ;  its  leaders 
must  be  more  judicious  than  those  of  the 
'Times,'  its  occasional  notes  a  little  more  spicy 
than  Mr.  Labouchere's,  and  its  reviews  a  little 
more  learned  than  those  of  the  *  Journal  of 
Philology.'      Should  it  fall  short  of  perfection 


84  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

in  any  of  these  branches,  it  'has  no  reason 
for  existence/  and  is  in  fact  described  as  '  prob- 
ably moribund.'  Yet  another  terror  is  added 
to  the  life  of  an  Oxford  editor:  he  must  be 
at  least  often  '  ftinny ; '  he  must  endeavour  in 
some  sort  to  carry  out  the  great  traditions  of 
the  'Oxford  Spectator'  and  the  '  Shot  over 
Papers ; '  and  as  the  English  public  is  generally 
best  amused  by  personalities,  he  must  be  care- 
ful to  observe  the  almost  invisible  line  which 
separates  the  justifiable  skit  from  the  offensive 
attack.  Now,  the  undergraduate  contributor 
to  the  press  is  seldom  successful  as  a  humourist. 
He  is  occasionally  violent  and  he  is  often  — 
more  especially  after  the  festive  season  of 
Christmas — addicted  to  sentimental  verse;  but 
for  mere  frivolity  and  'lightness  of  touch'  it 
is  safer  to  apply  to  his  tutor. 

It  is  a  rather  remarkable  fact  that  almost 
all  University  papers — certainly  all  that  have 
succeeded  under  the  trying  conditions  of  the 
game — have  been  managed  and  for  the  most 
part  written,  not  by  the  exuberant  vitality  of 
undergraduate  youth,  but  by  the  less  interesting 


University  Journalism  85 

prudence  of  graduate  maturity.  It  is  remark- 
able, but  not  surprising.  Undergraduate  talent 
is  occasionally  brilliant,  but  is  naturally  tran- 
sient. Generations  succeed  each  other  with  such 
rapidity  that  the  most  capable  editorial  staff  is 
vanishing  into  thin  air  just  at  the  moment  when 
a  journal  has  reached  the  highest  pitch  of  popu- 
larity. Moreover,  amateur  talent  is  always  hard 
to  deal  with,  as  organizers  of  private  theatricals 
know  to  their  cost ;  and  there  is  no  member  of 
society  more  capable  of  disappointing  his  friends 
at  a  critical  moment  than  the  amateur  contri- 
butor to  the  press.  Should  the  spirit  move  him, 
he  will  send  four  columns  when  the  editor  wants 
one  ;  but  if  he  is  not  in  the  vein,  or  happens 
to  have  something  else  to  do,  there  is  no  pro- 
mise so  sacred  and  no  threat  so  terrible  as  to 
persuade  him  to  put  pen  to  paper.  If  these 
are  statements  of  general  application,  they  are 
doubly  true  of  undergraduates,  who  are  always 
distracted  by  a  too  great  diversity  of  occupa- 
tions :  Jones,  whose  power  of  intermittent  satire 
has  made  him  the  terror  of  his  Dons,  has  unac- 
countably  taken    to   reading  for  the  Schools  ; 


86  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

the  poet,  Smith,  has  gone  into  training  for  the 
Torpids ;  and  Brown,  whose  '  Voces  Populi  in  a 
Ladies'  College '  were  to  have  been  something 
quite  too  excruciatingly  funny,  has  fallen  in 
love  in  the  vacation  and  will  write  nothing  but 
bad  poetry.  Such  are  the  trials  of  the  editor 
who  drives  an  undergraduate  team  ;  and  hence 
it  comes  about  that  the  steady-going  periodi- 
cals for  which  the  public  can  pay  a  yearly  sub- 
scription in  advance,  with  the  prospect  of 
seeing  at  any  rate  half  the  value  of  its  money, 
are  principally  controlled  by  graduates.  No 
doubt  they  sometimes  preserve  a  certain 
appearance  of  youthful  vigour  by  worshipping 
undergraduate  talent,  and  using  the  word 
*  Donnish  *  as  often  and  as  contemptuously  as 
possible. 

Nevertheless,  there  appear  from  time  to 
time  various  ephemeral  and  meteoric  pub- 
lications, edited  by  junior  members  of  the 
University.  They  waste  the  editor's  valuable 
time,  no  doubt  ;  and  yet  he  is  learning  a  lesson 
which  may,  perhaps,  be  useful  to  him  in  after- 
life ;  for  it  is  said  that  until  he  is  undeceived 


>3 


University  Journalism  87 

by  hard  experience,  every  man  is  born  with 
the  conviction  that  he  can  do  three  things — 
drive  a  dog-cart,  sail  a  boat,  and  edit  a 
paper. 


VI 

THE  UNIVERSITY  AS  SEEN  FROM  OUTSIDE. 

*  A  man  must  serve  his  time  to  every  trade 
Save  censure — critics  all  are  ready  made.* 

Byron, 

IT  has  been  said  that  the  function  of  a. 
University  is  to  criticise ;  but  the  pro- 
position is  at  least  equally  true  that  Oxford 
and  Cambridge  are  continually  conjugating 
the  verb  in  the  passive.  We — and  more 
especially  we  who  live  in  Oxford,  for  the 
sister  University  apparently  is  either  more 
virtuous  or  more  skilful  in  concealing  her 
peccadilloes  from  the  public  eye — enjoy  the 
priceless  advantage  of  possessing  innumerable 
friends  whose  good  nature  is  equalled  by 
their  frankness ;  and  if  we  do  not  learn 
wisdom,  that  is  not  because  the  opportunity 
is  not  offered  to  us.  It  is  true  that  our 
great  governing  body,  the  Hebdomadal  Council,. 
has  hitherto   preserved  its   independence  by   a. 


The  University  as  seen  from  Outside       8  9 

prudent  concealment  of  its  deliberations  :  no 
reporter  has  ever  as  yet  penetrated  into 
that  august  assemblage  ;  but  whatever  emerges 
to  the  light  of  day  is  seized  upon  with  avidity. 
Debates  in  Convocation  or  even  in  Congrega- 
tion (the  latter  body  including  only  the 
resident  Masters  of  Arts),  although  the  subject 
may  have  been  somewhat  remote  from  the 
interests  of  the  general  public,  and  the 
number  of  the  voters  perhaps  considerably 
increased  by  the  frivolous  reason  that  it  was 
a  wet  afternoon,  when  there  was  nothing 
else  to  do  than  to  govern  the  University — 
debates  on  every  conceivable  subject  blush 
to  find  themselves  reported  the  next  morning 
almost  in  the  greatest  of  daily  papers  ;  and 
perhaps  the  result  of  a  division  on  the 
addition  of  one  more  Oriental  language  to 
Responsions,  or  one  more  crocket  to  a  new 
pinnacle  of  St.  Mary's  Church,  is  even 
honoured  by  a  leading  article.  This  is  highly 
gratifying  to  residents  in  the  precincts  of  the 
University,  but  even  to  them  it  is  now  and 
then  not    altogether   comprehensible.      Nor    is 


90  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

it  only  questions  concerning  the  University  as 
a  whole  which  appeal  to  the  external  public  ; 
even  college  business  and  college  scandal  some- 
times assume  an  unnatural  importance.  Years 
ago  one  of  the  tutors  of  a  certain  college  was 
subjected  to  the  venerable  and  now  almost 
obsolete  process  of  *  screwing  up/  and  some 
young  gentlemen  were  rusticated  for  complicity 
in  the  offence.  Even  in  academic  circles  the 
crime  and  its  punishment  were  not  supposed 
to  be  likely  to  interfere  with  the  customary 
revolution  of  the  solar  system  ;  but  the  editor 
of  a  London  daily  paper — and  one,  too,  which 
was  supposed  to  be  more  especially  in  touch 
with  that  great  heart  of  the  people  which 
is  well  known  to  hold  Universities  in  con- 
tempt— considered  the  incident  so  important 
as  to  publish  a  leading  article  with  the 
remarkable      exordium,      'Every      one     knew 

that     Mr.    ,    of College,  would  be 

screwed  up  some  day ! '  Most  of  the  abonnes 
of  this  journal  must,  it  is  to  be  feared,  have 
blushed  for  their  discreditable  ignorance  of 
Mr. 's    existence,   not    to    mention    that 


PORCH  OF  ST.  MARTS. 

Drawn  by  J.  Pennell. 


The  University  as  seen  from  Outside       91 

leaden-footed   retribution    which   was   dogging 
him  to  a  merited  doom. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  in 
nine  cases  out  of  ten  comment  on  the  pro- 
ceedings of  a  learned  University  takes  the 
form  of  censure :  nor  are  censors  far  to 
seek.  There  are  always  plenty  of  young 
men  more  or  less  connected  with  the  Press 
who  have  wrongs  to  avenge;  who  are  only 
too  glad  to  have  an  opportunity  of  '  scoring 
off'  the  college  authority  which  did  its  best 
— perhaps  unsuccessfully,  but  still  with  a 
manifest  intention — to  embitter  their  acad- 
emic existence  ;  or  of  branding  once  for 
all  as  reactionary  and  obscurantist  the  hide- 
bound regulations  of  a  University  which 
did  not  accord  them  the  highest  honours. 
In  these  cases  accuracy  of  facts  and  statistics 
is  seldom  a  matter  of  much  importance. 
Generally  speaking,  you  can  say  what  you 
like  about  a  college,  or  the  University, 
without  much  fear  of  contradiction — pro- 
vided that  you  abstain  from  mere  person- 
alities.    For    one    thing,    the    cap    is    always 


92  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

fitted  on  some  one  else's  head.  It  is  not 
the  business  of  St.  Botolph's  to  concern  itself 
with  an  attack  which  is  obviously  meant  for 
St.  Boniface  :  it  is  darkly  whispered  in  the 
St.  Boniface  common-room  that  after  all  no 
one  knows  what  actually  does  go  on  in 
St.  Botolph's  :  and  obviously  neither  of  these 
venerable  foundations  can  have  anything  to 
do  with  answering  impeachments  of  the 
University  and  its  financial  system.  More- 
over, even  if  the  Dons  should  rouse  them- 
selves from  their  usual  torpor  an4  attempt 
a  defence,  it  is  not  very  likely  that  the 
public  will  listen  to  them :  any  statement 
proceeding  from  an  academic  source  being 
always  regarded  with  the  gravest  suspicion. 
That  is  why  'any  stick  is  good  enough 
to  beat  the  Universities,'  and  there  are 
always  plenty  of  sticks  who  are  quite  ready 
to  perform  the  necessary  castigation. 

Moreover,  these  writers  generally  deal 
with  a  subject  which  is  always  interesting, 
because  it  is  one  on  which  every  one  has  an 
opinion,  and  an  opinion  which   is   entitled  to 


The  University  as  seen  from  Outside      93 

respect — the  education  of  youth.  Any  one 
can  pick  holes  in  the  University  system  of 
teaching  and  examination  — '  can  strike  a  finger 
on  the  place,  and  say,  "Thou  ailest  here  and 
here," ' —  or  construct  schemes  of  reform :  more 
especially  young  men  who  have  recently  quitted 
their  Alma  Mater,  and  are  therefore  qualified 
to  assert  (as  they  do,  and  at  times  not  with- 
out a  certain  plausibility)  that  she  has  failed 
to  teach  them  anything. 

That  the  British  public,  with  so  much  to 
think  about,  should  find  time  to  be  diverted 
by  abuse  of  its  seats  of  learning,  is  at  first 
a  little  surprising  ;  but  there  is  no  doubt 
that  such  satire  has  an  agreeable  piquancy,  and 
for  tolerably  obvious  reasons.  English  humour 
is  generally  of  the  personal  kind,  and  needs  a 
butt;  a  capacity  in  which  all  persons  con- 
nected with  education  have  from  time  im- 
memorial been  qualified  to  perform,  ex  officio 
(education  being  generally  considered  as  an 
imparting  of  unnecessary  and  even  harmful 
knowledge,  and  obviously  dissociated  from  the 
pursuit  of  financial  prosperity,  both  as  regards 


94  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

the  teachers  and  the  taught):  Shakespeare  set 
the  fashion,  and  Dickens  and  Thackeray  have 
settled  the  hash  of  schoolmasters  and  college 
tutors  for  the  next  fifty  years,  at  any  rate. 
Schoolmasters,  indeed,  are  becoming  so  im- 
portant and  prosperous  a  part  of  the  community 
that  they  will  probably  be  the  first  to  rein- 
state themselves  in  the  respect  of  the  public  ; 
but  Dons  have  more  difficulties  to  contend 
against.  They  have  seldom  any  prospect  of 
opulence.  Then,  again,  they  sufi?er  from  the 
quasi-monastic  character  of  colleges ;  they  have 
inherited  some  of  the  railing  accusations  which 
used  to  be  brought  against  monasteries.  The 
voice  of  scandal  —  especially  feminine  scandal 
— is  not  likely  to  be  long  silent  about  celibate 
societies,  and  no  Rudyard  Kipling  has  yet 
arisen  to  plead  on  behalf  of  Fellows  that  they 

'  aren't  no  blackguards  too, 
But  single  men  in  barracks,  most  remarkable  like 
you.' 

Altogether  the  legend  of  '  monks,'  '  port  wine 
and  prejudice,'  '  dull  and  deep  potations,'  and 
all  the  rest   of  it,    still  damages   Dons  in   the 


-^r 


IN  EXETER  COLLEGE  CHAPEL. 
Draivn  by  E.  Stamp. 


T^he  University  as  seen  from  Outside      95 
eyes    of  the    general   public.        *  That's  


College/  says  the  local  guide  to  his  sightseers, 
*and  there  they  sits,  on  their  Turkey  carpets, 
a-drinking  of  their  Madeira,  and  Burgundy, 
and  Tokay.'  Such  is,  apparently,  the  impres- 
sion still  entertained  by  Society.  And  no 
doubt  successive  generations  of  Fellows  who 
hunted  four  days  a  week,  or,  being  in  Orders, 
*  thanked  Heaven  that  no  one  ever  took  them 
for  parsons,'  did  to  a  certain  extent  perpet- 
uate the  traditions  of  *  Bolton  Abbey  in  the 
olden  time.'  Well,  their  day  is  over  now. 
If  the  Fellow  Jin  de  siecle  should  ever  ven- 
ture to  indulge  in  the  sports  of  the  field, 
he  must  pretend  that  he  has  met  the  hounds 
by  accident;  and  even  then  he  risks  his  repu- 
tation. 

It  is  always  pleasant,  too,  to  be  wiser  than 
one's  erstwhile  pastors  and  masters.  The 
pupil  goes  out  into  the  great  world ;  the 
teacher  remains  behind,  and  continues  appar- 
ently to  go  on  in  his  old  and  crusted  errors. 
Outwardly  the  Universities  do  not  change 
much,    and   it    is   easy    to    assume    that    the 


96  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

habits  and  ideas  of  their  denizens  do  not 
change  either.  Thus  it  is  that  the  young 
men  of  the  ^National  Observer/  coming  back 
from  a  Saturday  -  to  -  Monday  visit  to  a  uni- 
versity which  they  never  respected  and  are 
now  entitled  to  despise,  are  moved  to  declare 
to  the  world  the  complete  inutility  of  what 
they  call  the  Futile  Don.  *  He  is  dead,' 
they  say,  *  quite  dead  ; '  and  if  he  is,  might 
not  the  poor  relic  of  mortality  be  allowed  in 
mere  charity  to  lie  peaceflilly  entombed  in  his 
collegiate  cloisters.?  Yet,  after  all,  it  is  only 
among  the  great  Anglo-Saxon  race  that  the 
profession  of  teaching  is  without  honour ; 
and  even  among  us  it  may  be  allowed  that 
it  is  a  mode  of  earning  a  pittance  as  decent 
and  comparatively  innocuous  as  another.  We 
cannot,  all  of  us,  taste  the  fierce  joys  of 
writing  for  the  daily  or  weekly  press,  and 
the  barrister's  '  crowded  hours  of  glorious 
life'  in  the  law  courts  would  be  more  over- 
crowded than  ever  were  not  a  few  faineants 
suffered  to  moulder  in  the  retirement  of  a 
university.     Seriously,  it  was  all  very  well  for 


The  University  as  seen  from  Outside       97 

the  young  lions  of  the  Press  to  denounce  the 
torpor  of  Dons  in  the  bad  old  days  when 
-colleges  were  close  corporatiolls  —  when 
Fellows  inherited  their  bloated  revenues  with- 
out competition,  and  simply  because  they 
happened  to  be  born  in  a  particular  corner 
of  some  rural  district.  But  now  that  nearly 
every  First-class  man  has  the  chance  of  election 
and  would  be  a  Fellow  if  he  could,  one  is 
tempted  to  recall  the  ancient  fable  of  the  sour 
grapes.  Or  at  least  the  esprits  forts  whom 
the  University  has  reluctantly  driven  out 
into  the  great  world  might  be  grateflil  to 
her  for  saving  them  in  spite  of  themselves 
from  an  existence  of  futile  incapacity. 

Probably  as  long  as  colleges  exist  in  some- 
thing like  their  present  form — until  the  People 
takes  a  short  way  with  them,  abolishes  com- 
mon rooms  and  the  Long  Vacation,  and  pays 
college  tutors  by  a  system  of  '  results  fees ' — 
these  things  will  continue  to  be  said.  Deans 
and  Senior  Tutors  will  never  escape  the 
stigma  of  torpor  or  incapacity.  That  quite 
respectable  rhymester,  Mr.  Robert  Montgomery 

H 


98  As'pects  of  Modern  Oxford 

(who,  had  he  not  been  unlucky  enough  to- 
cross  the  path  of  Lord  Macaulay,  might 
have  lived  and  died  and  been  forgotten  as 
the  author  of  metrical  works  not  worse  than 
many  that  have  escaped  the  lash),  has  left 
to  the  world  a  long  poem — of  which  the 
sentiments  are  always,  and  the  rhymes  usually, 
correct — entitled  *  Oxford.'  He  has  taken  all 
Oxford  life  for  his .  subject,  Dons  included; 
and  this  is  how  he  describes  the  fate  of 
College  Tutors : — 

*  The  dunce,  the  drone,  the  freshman  or  the  fool, 
'Tis  theirs  to  counsel,  teach,  o'erawe,  and  rule  ! 
Their  only  meed — some  execrating  word 
To  blight    the    hour   when    first    their   voice  was 
heard.' 

To  a  certain  extent  this  is  true  in  all  ages. 
But  there  are  worse  things  than  mere  sloth: 
this  is  not  the  measure  of  the  crimes 
charged  against  college  authorities.  They 
— even  such  contemptible  beings  as  they  — 
are  said  to  have  the  audacity  to  neglect 
untitled  merit,  and  to  truckle  to  the  aris- 
tocracy.    Every  one  knows  Thackeray's  terrible 


The  University  as  seen  from  Outside      99 

indictment  of  University  snobs:  Crump,  the 
pompous  dignitary  (who,  to  do  him  justice, 
seriously  thinks  himself  greater  than  the  Czar 
of  All  the  Russias),  and  Hugby,  the  tutor 
grovelling  before  the  lordling  who  has  played 
him  a  practical  joke.  Every  one  remem- 
bers how  even  the  late  Laureate  gibbeted  his 
Dons — how 

'One 
Discussed  his  tutor,  rough  to  common  men. 
But  honeying  at  the  whisper  of  a  lord: 
And  one  the  Master,  as  a  rogue  in   grain, 
VeneerM  with  sanctimonious  theory.' 

No  doubt  Universities  are  not  immaculate. 
There  have  been  TartufFes  and  tuft  -  hunters 
there,  as  in  the  great  world.  No  doubt, 
too,  it  was  very  wrong  to  allow  noblemen 
to  wear  badges  of  their  rank,  and  take  their 
degrees  without  examination  (although  the 
crime  was  a  lesser  one  in  the  days  before 
class-lists  were,  when  even  the  untitled 
commoner  became  a  Bachelor  by  dark  and 
disreputable  methods);  but  these  things  are 
not   done  any  more.       At  this  day  there  arc 


lOO  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford, 

probably  few  places  where  a  title  is  less 
regarded  than  at  Oxford  or  Cambridge.  It 
is  true  that  rumour  asserts  the  existence  of 
certain  circles  where,  ceteris  paribus^  the  vir- 
tuous proprietor  of  wealth  and  a  handle  to 
his  name  is  welcomed  with  more  effusion 
than  the  equally  respectable,  but  less  fortunate, 
holder  of  an  eleemosynary  exhibition.  But, 
after  all,  even  external  Society,  which  regards 
tuft-hunting  with  just  displeasure,  does — it  is 
said  —  continue  to  maintain  these  invidious, 
distinctions  when  it  is  sending  out  invitations 
to  dinner.  The  fact  is  that  there  are  a 
great  many  peccadilloes  in  London  which 
become  crimes  at  the  University. 

Satire,  however,  does  not  confine  itself  to 
Dons :  undergraduates  come  in  for  a  share 
of  it  too,  though  in  a  different  way.  When 
the  novelist  condescends  to  depict  the  Fellow 
of  a  college,  it  is  usually  as  a  person  more 
or  less  feeble,  futile,  and  generally  manque. 
The  Don  can  never  be  a  hero,  but  neither 
is  he  qualified  to  play  the  part  of  villain; 
his   virtues  and  his    vices    are  all  alike  inade- 


T!he  University  as  seen  from  Outside     loi 

quate.  If  he  is  bad,  his  badness  is  rarely 
more  than  contemptible  ;  if  he  is  good,  it  is 
in  a  negative  and  passionless  way,  and  the 
great  rewards  of  life  are,  as  a  rule,  consid- 
ered as  being  out  of  his  reach.  But  with 
the  undergraduate  the  case  is  different.  He 
—  as  we  have  said — is  always  in  extremes  : 
literature  gives  him  the  premier  role  either 
as  hero  or  villain;  but  it  is  as  the  villain 
that  he  is  the  most  interesting  and  pictur- 
esque. Satire  and  fiction  generally  describe 
him  as  an  adept  in  vicious  habits.  So 
sings  Mr.  Robert  Montgomery,  with  admirable 
propriety : — 

'  In  Oxford  see  the  Reprobate  appear ! 
Big  with  the  promise  of  a  mad  career : 
With  cash  and  consequence  to  lead  the  way, 
A  fool  by  night  and  more  than  fop  by  day ! ' 

Over  and  over  again  we  have  the  old  picture 
of  the  Rake's  Progress  which  the  world  has 
learnt  to  know  so  well  :  the  youth  absents 
himself  from  his  lectures,  perhaps  even  goes 
to   Woodstock    (horrid    thought!)  —  *Wood- 


I02  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

stock  rattles  with  eternal  wheels '  is  the 
elegant  phrase  of  Mr.  Montgomery — and,  in 
short,  plays  the  fool  generally  : — 

'  Till  night  advance,  whose  reign  divine 
Is  chastely  dedicate  to  cards  and  wine.* 

The  specimen  student  of  the  nineteenth 
century  will  probably  survive  in  history 
as  represented  in  these  remarkable  colours, 
and  the  virtuous  youth  of  a  hundred  years 
hence  will  shudder  to  think  of  a  generation 
so  completely  given  over  to  drunkenness, 
debauchery,  and  neglect  of  the  Higher  Life 
generally.  There  is  a  naivete  and  directness 
about  undergraduate  error  which  is  the  easy 
prey  of  any  satirist  ;  and  curiously  enough 
the  public,  and  even  that  large  class  which 
sends  its  sons  to  the  Universities,  apparently 
likes  to  pretend  a  belief  that  youth  is  really 
brought  up  in  an  atmosphere  of  open  and 
unchecked  deviation  from  the  paths  of  dis- 
cipline and  morality.  If  Paterfamilias  seriously 
believed  that  the  academic  types  presented  to 


4- 
I 


The  University  as  seen  from  Outside     103 

him  in  literature  were  genuine  and  frequent 
phenomena,  he  would  probably  send  his  off- 
spring in  for  the  London  Matriculation.  But 
he    knows    pretty    well    that    the   University 


IS  really  not  rotten  to  the  core,  and  that 
colleges  are  not  always  ruled  by  incapables, 
nor  college  opinion  mainly  formed  by  rakes 
and  spendthrifts ;  and  at  the  same  time  It 
gives  the  British  Public  a  certain  pleasure  to 
imagine  that  it  too  has  heard  the  chimes  at 
midnight,  although  it  now  goes  to  bed  at 
half-past   ten  —  that    it   has    been    a   devil  of 


104  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

a  fellow  in  its  youth.  This  fancy  is  always^ 
piquant,  and  raises  a  man  in  his  own  esti- 
mation and  that  of  his  friends. 

These  little  inconsistences  are  of  a  piece 
with  the  whole  attitude  of  the  unacademic 
world  towards  the  Universities.  Men  come 
down  from  London  to  rest,  perhaps,  for  a 
day  or  two  from  the  labours  of  the  Session. 
They  are  inspired  with  a  transient  enthusiasm 
for  antiquity.  They  praise  academic  calm  : 
they  affect  to  wish  that  they,  too,  were  pri- 
vileged to  live  that  life  of  learned  leisure 
which  is  commonly  supposed  to  be  the  lot  of 
all  Fellows  and  Tutors.  Then  they  go  away,, 
and  vote  for  a  new  University  Commission. 


VII 

DIARY  OF  A  DON 

♦  Collegiate  life  next  opens  on  thy  way, 
Begins  at  morn  and  mingles  with  the  day.* 

R.  Montgomery, 

HALF-PAST  SEVEN  a.m.  :  enter  my 
scout,  noisily,  as  one  who  is  accus- 
tomed to  wake  undergraduates.  He  throws 
my  bath  violently  on  the  floor  and  fills  it 
with  ice-cold  water.  *What  kind  of  a 
morning  is  it  ? '  No  better  than  usual  :  rain, 
east  wind,  occasional  snow.  Mus^  get  up 
nevertheless:  haven't  superintended  a  roll-call 
for  three  days,  and  the  thing  will  become  a 
scandal.  Never  mind  :  one  more  snooze.  .  .  . 
There  are  the  bells  (Oh,  those  bells!)  ringing 
for  a  quarter  to  eight.     Ugh  ! 

Dress  in  the  dark,  imperfectly  :  no  time  to 
shave.  Cap  and  gown  apparently  lost.  Where 
the Oh,  here  they  are,   under  the  table. 


io6  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

Must  try  to  develop  habits  of  neatness. 
Somebody  else's  cap  :  too  big. 

Roll-call  in  full  swing  in  Hall  :  that  is, 
the  college  porter  is  there,  ticking  oiF  under- 
graduates' names  as  they  come  in.  Hall  very 
cold  and  untidy :  college  cat  scavenging 
remnants  of  last  night's  dinner.  Portrait  of 
the  Founder  looking  as  if  he  never  expected 
the  college  to  come  to  this  kind  of  thing. 
Men  appear  in  various  stages  of  dishabille. 
Must  make  an  example  of  some  one  :  '  Really 
Mr.  Tinkler,  I  must  ask  you  to  put  on  some- 
thing besides  an  ulster.'  Tinkler  explains  that 
he  is  fully  dressed,  opening  his  ulster  and 
disclosing  an  elaborate  toilet :  unfortunate — have 
to  apologise.  During  the  incident  several  men 
without  caps  and  gowns  succeed  in  making 
their  escape. 

Back  in  my  rooms  :  finish  dressing.  Fire 
out,  no  hot  water.  This  is  what  they  call 
the  luxurious  existence  of  a  College  Fellow. 
Post  arrives  :  chiefly  bills  and  circulars  :  several 
notes  from  undergraduates.  *  Dear  Sir, — May 
I  go  to  London  for  the  day  in  order  to  keep 


Diary  of  a  'Don  107 

an  important  engagement/     Dentist,  I  suppose. 

*  Dear    Mr.   , — I    am    sorry    that    I    was 

absent  from  your  valuable  lecture  yesterday,  as 
I  was  not  aware  you  would  do  so.'  *  Dear 
Sir, — I  shall  be  much  obliged  if  I  may  have 
leave  off  my  lecture  this  morning,  as  I  wish  to 
go  out   hunting.'     Candid,  at  any  rate.     *  Mr. 

presents  his  compliments  to  Mr. and 

regrets  that  he  is  compelled  to  be  absent  from 
his  Latin  Prose  lecture,  because  I  cannot  come.' 
Simple  and  convincing.  Whip  from  the  Secre- 
tary of  the  Non-Placet  Society  :  urgent  request 
to  attend  in  Convocation  and  oppose  nefarious 
attempt  to  insert  *  and '  in  the  wording  of 
Stat.  Tit.  Cap.  lxx.  18.  Never  heard  of  the 
statute  before.     Breakfast. 

College  cook  apparently  thinks  that  a 
hitherto  unimpaired  appetite  can  be  satisfied 
by  what  seems  to  be  a  cold  chaffinch  on  toast. 
'Take  it  away,  please,  and  get  me  an  egg.* 
Egg  arrives :  not  so  old  as  chaffinch,  but 
nearly :  didn't  say  I  wanted  a  chicken.  Scout 
apologises  :  must  have  brought  me  an  under- 
graduate's egg  by  mistake.     Never  mind ;  plain 


io8  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

living  and  high  thinking.  Two  college  ser- 
vants come  to  report  men  absent  last  night 
from  their  rooms.  Must  have  given  them  leave 
to  go  down :  can't  remember  it,  though.  Matter 
for  investigation.  Porter  reports  gentleman 
coming  into  college  at   12.10  last  night.      All 

right  :   '  The  Dean's  compliment's  to  Mr. , 

and  will  he  please  to  call  upon  him  at  once. 

*Mr. 's  compliments  to  the  Dean,  and  he 

has  given  orders  not  to  be  awakened  till  ten, 
but  will  come  when  he  is  dressed.'     Obliging. 

Lecture  to  be  delivered  at  ten  o'clock  to 
Honours  men,  on  point  of  ancient  custom  : 
very  interesting  ;  Time  of  Roman  Dinner, 
whether  at  2.30  or  2.45.  Have  got  copious 
notes  on  the  subject  somewhere  :  must  read 
them  up  before  lecture,  as  it  never  looks  well 
to  be  in  difficulties  with  your  own  MS. — 
looks  as  if  you  hadn't  the  subject  at  your 
fingers'  ends.  Notes  can't  be  found.  Know 
I  saw  them  on  my  table  three  weeks  ago> 
and  table  can't  have  been  dusted  since  then. 
Oh,  here  they  are  :  illegible.  Wonder  what 
I    meant    by    all   these    abbreviations.      Never 


Diary  of  a  Don  109 

mind  :    can  leave  that  part  out.     Five  minutes 
past  ten. 

Lecture-room  pretty  full  :  two  or  three 
scholars,  with  air  of  superior  intelligence  : 
remainder  commoners,  in  attitudes  more  or 
less  expressive  of  distracted  attention.  One 
man  from  another  college,  looking  rather  de 
trop.  Had  two  out-college  men  last  time : 
different  men,  too  :  disappointing.  Begin  my 
dissertation  and  try  to  make  abstruse  subject 
attractive  :  '  learning  put  lightly,  like  powder 
in  jam.'  Wish  that  scholar  No.  i  wouldn't 
check  my  remarks  by  reference  to  the  authority 
from  whom  my  notes  are  copied.  Why  do 
they  teach  men  German  .f*  Second  scholar  has 
last  number  of  the  *  Classical  Review '  open 
before  him.  Why.^  Appears  afterwards  that 
the  *  Review '  contains  final  and  satisfying 
reductio  ad  ahsurdum  of  my  theory.  Man 
from  another  college  asks  if  he  may  go  away. 
Certainly,    if    he    wishes.       Explains   that    he 

thought  this  was  Mr.  's  Theology  lecture. 

Seems  to  have  taken  twenty  minutes  to   find 
out  his  mistake.     Wish  that  two  of  the  com- 


no  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

moners  could  learn  to  take  notes  intelligently, 
and  not  take  down  nothing  except  the  unim- 
portant points.  Hope  they  won't  reproduce 
them  next  week  in  the  schools. 

Ten  fifty-five  :  peroration-  Interrupted 
by  entrance  of  lecturer  for  next  hour.  Begs 
pardon :  sorry  to  have  interrupted  :  doesn't 
go,  however.  Peroration  spoilt.  Lecture  over : 
general  sense  of  relief.  Go  out  with  the 
audience,  and  overhear  one  of  them  tell  his 
friend  that,  after  all,  it  wasn't  so  bad  as  last 
time.  Mem.,  not  to  go  out  with  audience  in 
future. 

Eleven  o'clock :  lecture  for  Passmen. 
Twelve  or  fifteen  young  gentlemen  all  irre- 
proachably dressed  in  latest  style  of  under- 
graduate fashion — Norfolk  jacket  and  brown 
boots  indispensable — and  all  inclined  to  be 
cheerfully  tolerant  of  the  lecturer's  presence 
quand  meme,  regarding  him  as  a  necessary 
nuisance  and  part  of  college  system.  After 
all  there  isn't  so  much  to  do  between  eleven 
and  twelve.  Some  of  them  can  construe, 
but  consider  it  unbecoming  to  make  any  osten- 


Diary  of  a  'Don  1 1 1 

tation  of  knowledge.  Conversation  at  times 
animated.  'Really,  gentlemen,  you  might  keep 
something  to  talk  about  at  the  next  lecture.' 
Two  men  appear  at  11.25,  noisily.  Very 
sorry :  have  been  at  another  lecture  :  couldn't 
get  away.  General  smile  of  incredulity,  joined 
in  by  the  new  arrivals  as  they  find  a  place  in 
the  most  crowded  part  of  lecture-room.  Every 
one  takes  notes  diligently,  and  is  careful  to 
burn  them  at  the  end  of  the  hour.  Transla- 
tion proceeds  rather  slowly.  Try  it  myself: 
difficult  to  translate  Latin  comedy  with  dignity. 
Give  it  up  and  let  myself  go — play  to  the 
gallery.  Gallery  evidently  considers  that 
frivolity  on  the  lecturer's  part  is  inappropriate 
to  the  situation.  11.55:  'Won't  keep  you 
longer,  gentlemen.' 

Twelve  :  time  to  do  a  little  quiet  work 
before  lunch.  Gentleman  who  was  out  after 
twelve  last  night  comes  to  explain.  Was 
detained  in  a  friend's  room  (reading)  and  did 
not  know  how  late  it  was.  In  any  case  is 
certain  he  was  in  before  twelve,  because  he 
looked   at   his  watch,  and   is  almost   sure   his 


1 1 2  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

watch  is  fast.  Fined  and  warned  not  to  do  it 
again  :  exit  grumbling.      No  more  interruptions, 

I  hope Boy  from  the  Clarendon  Press  : 

editor  wants  something  for  the  '  Oxford 
Magazine/  at  once  :  not  less  than  a  column  : 
messenger  will  wait  while  I  write  it.  Very  con- 
siderate. Try  to  write  something  :  presence  of 
boy  embarrassing.  Ask  him  to  go  outside  and 
wait  on  the  staircase.  Does  so,  and  continues 
to  whistle  *  Daisy  Bell/  with  accompaniment  on 
the  banisters  ohhligato.  Composition  difficult 
and  result  not  satisfactory  :  hope  no  one  will 
read  it.  Column  nearly  finished :  man  comes  to 
explain  why  he  wants  to  be  absent  during  three 
weeks  of  next  term.  Would  he  mind  going 
away  and  calling  some  other  time }  Very  well  : 
when  ?  Oh,  any  time,  only  not  now.  This  is 
what  they  call  the  leisure  and  philosophic  calm 
of  collegiate  life. 

Lunch  in  Common  Room  :  cold,  clammy, 
and  generally  unappetising.  Guest  who  is 
apparently  an  old  member  of  the  college  greets 
me  and  says  he  supposes  IVe  forgotten  him. 
'  Not  at  all :  remember  you  quite  well :  glad  to 


Diary  of  a  Don  113 

meet  you  again/  Haven't  the  faintest  idea  what 
his  name  is  :  awkward.  Appears  in  course  of 
conversation  to  be  ex-undergraduate  whom  I 
knew  very  well  and  did  not  like.  Evidently 
regards  me  as  a  venerable  fossil :  he  himself  has 
grown  bald  and  fat  and  looks  fifty,  more  or  less : 
suppose  I  must  be  about  seventy  or  eighty. 
Vice-Principal  wants  to  know  if  I  will  play 
fives  at  two  :  yes,  if  he  likes.  No,  by  the  way, 
can't  ;  have  got  to  go  and  vote  in  Convocation. 
Don't  know  what  it  is  about,  but  promised  to 
go  :  can't  think  why.     Time  to  go. 

In  the  Convocation  House.  Very  few 
people  there,  nobody  at  all  interested.  Borrow 
Gazette  and  study  list  of  agenda.  Question  on 
which  I  promised  to  vote  comes  on  late,  all 
sorts  of  uninteresting  matters  to  be  settled  first : 
mostly  small  money  grants  for  scientific  pur- 
poses :  pleasant  way  of  wasting  three-quarters 
of  an  hour.  My  question  here  at  last :  prepare 
to  die  in  last  ditch  in  defence  of  original  form 
of  statute.  Member  of  Hebdomadal  Council 
makes  inaudible  speech,  apparently  on  the 
subject.     No   one    else   has   anything   to   say : 

I 


114  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

Councirs  proposal,  whatever  it  is,  carried  nem. 
con.  No  voting  :  might  as  well  have  played 
fives  after  all  :  next  time  shall. 

Time  for  walk  round  the  Parks  :  rain  and 
mud.  Worst  of  the  Parks  is,  you  always  meet 
people  of  houses  where  you  ought  to  have  called 
and  haven't.  Free  fight  under  Rugby  rules  going 
on  between  University  and  somewhere  else. 
Watch  it :  don't  understand  game  :  try  to  feel 

patriotic  :   can't Meeting    at   four   to 

oppose  introduction  of  Hawaiian  as  an  optional 
language  in  Responsions.  Not  select :  impru- 
dent for  a  caucus  to  transact  business  by  inviting 
its  opponents  :  people  of  all  sorts  of  opinions 
present.  Head  of  House  makes  highly  respect- 
able speech,  explaining  that  while  qualified 
support  of  reform  is  conceivable  and  even  under 
possible  circumstances  advisable,  premature 
action  is  rarely  consistent  with  mature  delibera- 
tion. Nobody  seems  to  have  anything  definite 
to  suggest :  most  people  move  amendments. 
Safe  to  vote  against  all  of  them  :  difficult  to 
know  how  you  are  voting,  however  :  wording 
of  amendments   so   confusing.      All    of    them 


Diary  of  a  Don  115 

negatived  :  substantive  motion  proposed  :  lost 
as  well.  Question  referred  to  a  Committee  : 
ought  to  have  been  done  at  first.  Hour  and  a 
half  wasted.  Remember  that  I  have  cut  my 
five-o'clock  pupil  for  second  time  running.  Am 
offered  afternoon  tea  :  thirsty,  but  must  be  off : 
man  at  half-past  five.  On  the  way  back  meet 
resident  sportsman  in  the  High.  Has  been  out 
with  hounds  and  had  best  twenty-five  minutes 
of  the  season,  in  the  afternoon,  three  miles  off. 
Might  have  been  there  myself  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  Convocation  :  hang  Convocation !  Never 
mind  ;  satisfaction  of  a  good  conscience  :  shall 
always  be  able  to  say  that  I  lost  best  run  of 
season  through  devotion  to  duty. 

Six  forty-five  :  pupils  gone ;  dress  for  seven- 
o'clock  dinner  with  friend  at  St.  Anselm*s.  Man 
comes  to  ask  why  he  has  been  gated  :  explain : 
man  not  satisfied.  Gone,  at  any  rate.  Another 
man,  asking  leave  to  be  out  after  twelve.  Five 
minutes  to  dress  and  walk  a  quarter  of  a  mile. 
Wish  men  wouldn't  choose  this  time  for  coming 
to  see  one.  Very  late  :  dinner  already  begun  : 
no   soup,  thanks.      Meaty   atmosphere  :   noisy 


1 1 6  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

atmosphere  at  lower  end  of  Hall :  under- 
graduates throw  bread  about.  No  one  in 
evening  dress  but  myself.  Distinguished  guest 
in  shape  of  eminent  German  Professor  :  have 
got  next  him  somehow  :  wish  I  hadn't  :  wears 
flannel  shirt  and  evidently  regards  me  as  a 
mere  butterfly  of  fashion.  Speaks  hardly  any 
English  :  try  him  in  German  :  replies  after  an 
unusual  efl^ort  on  my  part,  '  Ich  spreche  nur 
Deutsch.*  My  command  of  the  language 
evidently  less  complete  than  I  thought :  or 
perhaps  he  only  speaks  his  own  patois.  Man 
opposite  me  Demonstrator  at  the  Museum,  who 
considers  that  the  University  and  the  world  in 
general  was  made  for  physiologists. 

Small  party  in  Common  Room,  most  of 
diners  having  to  see  pupils  or  attend  meetings. 
Will  I  have  any  wine?  No  one  else  drinks 
any  and  my  host  is  a  teetotaller :  *  No,  thanks — 
never  drink  wine  after  dinner.'  Truth  only  a 
conventional  virtue  after  all.  Eminent  Teuton 
would  like  more  beer,  but  has  been  long  enough 
in  England  to  know  better  than  to  ask  for  it. 
Am  put  next  to  Demonstrator,  who  endeavours 


Diary  of  a  Bon  117 

to  give  general  ideas  of  digestive  organs  of  a 
frog,  interpreting  occasionally  in  German  for 
Professor's  benefit  :  illustrates  with  fragments 
of  dessert  :  most  interesting,  I  am  sure.  No- 
thing like  the  really  good  talk  of  an  Oxford 
Common  Room,  after  all.  Senior  Fellow  drinks 
whisky  and  water  and  goes  to  sleep.  Coffee 
and  cigarettes :  or  will  I  have  a  weed } 
*  Thanks,  but  must  be  off :  man  at  nine.  .  .' 
Back  in  college  :  rooms  dark  :  can't  find  my 
matches  and  fall  over  furniture. 

Man  comes  to  read  me  an  essay.  Know 
nothing  about  the  subject :  thought  he  was 
going  to  write  on  something  else.  Essay 
finished  :  must  say  something  :  try  to  find 
fault  with  his  facts.  Man  confronts  me  with 
array  of  statistics,  apparently  genuine  :  if  so 
nothing  more  to  say.  Criticise  his  grammar  : 
man  offended.  Interview  rather  painful,  till  con- 
cluded by  entrance  of  nine-thirty  man  with  Latin 
prose.  Rather  superior  young  man,  who  con- 
siders himself  a  scholar.  Suggest  that  part  of  his 
vocabulary  is  not  according  to  classical  usage  : 
proves  me  wrong   by   reference  to   dictionary. 


1 1 8  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

Is  not  surprised  to  find  me  mistaken.  Wish 
that  Higher  Education  had  stopped  in  Board 
Schools  and  not  got  down  to  undergraduates. 

Man  at  ten,  with  a  desire  to  learn.  Stays 
till  near  eleven  discussing  his  chances  in  the 
schools  at  great  length.  Presently  comes  to 
his  prospects  in  life.  Would  send  me  to  sleep 
if  he  wouldn't  ask  me  questions. 

Eleven  :  no  more  men,  thank  goodness. 
Tobacco  and  my  lecture  for  to-morrow.  .  .  . 
Never  could  understand  why  a  gentleman  being 
neither  intoxicated  nor  in  the  society  of  his 
friends,  cannot  cross  the  quadrangle  without  a 
view-halloo.  .  .  There  he  is  again  :  must  go 
out  and  see  what  is  going  on.  Quadrangle 
very  cold,  raining.  Group  of  men  playing 
football  in  the  corner :  friends  look  on  and 
encourage  them  from  windows  above.  As  I 
come  on  the  scene  all  disappear,  with  shouts  : 
none  identified :  saves  future  trouble,  at  all 
events.  More  tobacco  and  period  of  compara- 
tive peace.     Bedtime. 

Wish  my  scout  wouldn*t  hide  hard  things 
under  the  mattress. 


Diary  of  a  Don  119 

Noise  in  quadrangle  renewed  :  *  Daddy 
wouldn't  buy  me  a  Bow-wow/  with  varia- 
tions. .  .  .  Some  one's  oak  apparently  battered 
with  a  poker.  Ought  to  get  up  and  go  out 
to  stop  it.  .  .  . 


VIII 

THE  UNIVERSITY  AS  A  PLACE  OF  LEARNED 
LEISURE. 

*  I  had  been  used  for  thirty  years  to  no  interruption  save  the  tinkling  of 
the  dinner-bell  and  the  chapel-bell.' 

Essays  of  Vicesimus  Knox, 

STANDING  with  one  foot  in  the  Middle 
Ages  and  the  other  in  a  luxuriously  fur- 
nished Common  Room' — such  is  Oxford  life 
as  summarised  by  a  German  visitor,  who 
appears  to  have  beien  a  good  deal  perplexed, 
like  the  outer  world  in  general,  by  the 
academic  mixture  of  things  ancient  and 
modern,  and  a  host  who  wore  a  cap  and 
gown  over  his  evening  dress.  Certainly  the 
University  is  a  strange  medley  of  contraries. 
It  never  seems  to  be  quite  clear  whether 
we  are  going  too  fast  or  too  slow.  We  are 
always  reforming  something,  yet  are  con- 
tinually reproached  with  irrational  conser- 
vatism.    Change  and  permanence  are  side  by 


4- 


CO 


A  Place  of  Learned  Leisure  121 

side  —  permanence  that  looks  as  if  it  could 
defy  time  : 

'  The  form  remains,  the  function  never  dies,* 

-and  yet  all  the  while  the  change  is  rapid  and 
complete.  Men  go  down,  and  are  as  if  they 
had  never  been  :  as  is  the  race  of  leaves  so 
is  that  of  undergraduates  ;  and  so  transiently 
are  they  linked  with  the  enduring  existence 
of  their  University,  that,  except  in  the  case 
of  the  minority  who  have  done  great  deeds 
•on  the  river  or  the  cricket-field,  they  ©ither 
pass  immediately  out  of  recollection  or  else 
remain  only  as  a  dim  and  distant  tradition  of 
bygone  ages.  An  undergraduate's  memory  is 
very  short.  For  him  the  history  of  the 
University  is  comprised  in  the  three  or  four 
years  of  his  own  residence.  Those  who 
came  before  him  and  those  who  come  after 
are  alike  separated  from  him  by  a  great 
gulf;  his  predecessors  are  infinitely  older, 
and  his  successors  immeasurably  younger.  It 
makes  no  difference  what  his  relations  to 
them   may  be  in  after-life.     Jones,  who  went 


122  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

down  in  '74,  may  be  an  undistinguished 
country  parson  or  a  struggling  junior  at  the 
Bar;  and  Brown,  who  came  up  in  '75,  may 
be  a  bishop  or  a  Q^C.  with  his  fortune  made  ; 
but  all  the  same  Brown  will  always  regard 
Jones  as  belonging  to  the  almost  forgotten 
heroic  period  before  he  came  up,  and  Jones, 
whatever  may  be  his  respect  for  Brown's 
undoubted  talents,  must  always  to  a  certain 
extent  feel  the  paternal  interest  of  a  veteran 
watching  the  development  of  youthful  promise. 
So  complete  is  the  severance  of  successive 
generations,  that  it  is  hard  to  see  how  un- 
dergraduate custom  and  tradition  and  College 
characteristics  should  have  a  chance  of  sur- 
viving ;  yet  somehow  they  do  manage  ta 
preserve  an  unbroken  continuity.  Once  give 
a  College  a  good  or  a  bad  name,  and  that 
name  will  stick  to  it.  Plant  a  custom  and 
it  will  flourish,  defying  statutes  and  Royal 
Commissions.  Conservatism  is  in  the  air  \ 
even  convinced  Radicals  (in  politics)  cannot 
escape  from  it,  and  are  sometimes  Tories  in 
matters    relating    to    their   University.     They 


A  Place  of  Learned  Leisure  123, 

will  change  the  constitution  of  the  realm,  but 
will  not  stand  any  tampering  with  the  Heb- 
domadal Council.  Whatever  be  the  reason 
—  whether  it  be  Environment  or  Heredity — 
Universities  go  on  doing  the  same  things,, 
only  in  different  ways ;  they  retain  that  in- 
definable habit  of  thought  which  seems  to 
cling  to  old  grey  walls  and  the  shade 
of  ancient  elms,  which  the  public  calls. 
*  academic'  when  it  is  only  contemptuous, 
explaining  the  word  as  meaning  '  provincial 
with  a  difference '  when  it  is  angry. 

There  is  the  same  kind  of  unalterableness 
about  the  few  favoured  individuals  to  whom 
the  spirit  of  the  age  has  allowed  a  secure 
and  permanent  residence  in  Oxford  ;  a  happy 
class  which  is  now  almost  limited  to  Heads 
of  Houses  and  College  servants.  You 
scarcely  ever  see  a  scout  bearing  the  out- 
ward and  visible  signs  of  advancing  years ; 
age  cannot  wither  them,  nor  (it  should  be 
added)  can  custom  stale  their  infinite  variety 
of  mis-serving  their  masters.  Perhaps  it  is 
they   who   are    the    repositories    of    tradition. 


124  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

And  even  Fellows  contrive  to  retain  some  of 
the  characteristics  of  their  more  permanent 
predecessors,  whom  we  have  now  learnt  to 
regard  as  abuses.  Hard -worked  though  they 
are,  and  precarious  of  tenure,  they  are,  never- 
theless, in  some  sort  imbued  with  that  flavour 
of  humanity  and  dolce  far  niente  which  con- 
tinues to  haunt  even  a  Common  Room 
where  Fellows  drink  nothing  but  water,  and 
only  dine  together  once  a  fortnight. 

For  times  are  sadly  changed  now,  and  a 
fellowship  is  far  from  being  the  haven  of 
rest  which  it  once  was,  and  still  is  to  a  few. 
Look  at  that  old  Fellow  pacing  with  slow 
and  leisurely  steps  beneath  Magdalen  or 
Christchurch  elms  :  regard  him  well,  for  he  is 
an  interesting  survival,  and  presently  he  and 
Jiis  kind  will  be  nothing  but  a  memory,  and 
probably  the  progressive  spirit  of  democracy 
will  hold  him  up  as  an  awful  example.  He  is 
a  link  with  a  practically  extinct  period.  When 
he  was  first  elected  verus  et  perpetuus  socius  of 
his  college  —  without  examination  —  the  Uni- 
versity of    Oxford    was    in    a    parlous    state. 


A  Place  of  Learned  Leisure  125 

Reform  was  as  yet  unheard  of,  or  only  loomed 
dimly  in  the  distance.  Noblemen  still  wore 
tufts — think  how  that  would  scandalise  us 
now! — and  'gentlemen  commoners'  came  up 
with  the  declared  and  recognised  intention  of 
living  as  gentlemen  commoners  should.  Except 
for  the  invention  of  the  examination  system 
— and  the  demon  of  the  schools  was  satisfied 
with  only  a  mouthful  of  victims  then — Oxford 
of  the  forties  had  not  substantially  changed 
since  the  last  century — since  the  days  when 
Mr.  Gibbon  was  a  gentleman  commoner  at 
Magdalen  College,  where  his  excuses  for 
cutting  his  lectures  in  the  morning  were 
*  received  with  a  smile,'  and  where  he  found 
himself  horribly  bored  by  the  *  private  scandal ' 
and  *  dull  and  deep  potations '  of  the  seniors 
with  whom  he  was  invited  to  associate  in  the 
evening.  Not  much  had  changed  since  those 
days  :  lectures  were  still  disciplinary  exercises 
rather  than  vehicles  of  instruction,  and  the 
vespertinal  port  was  rarely  if  ever  interrupted 
in  its  circulation  by  'the  man  who  comes  at 
nine.'      Many  holders  of  fellowships   scarcely 


126  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

■came  near  the  University ;  those  who  did 
reside  were  often  not  much  concerned  about 
the  instruction  of  undergraduates,  and  still 
less  with  'intercollegiate  competition/  Per- 
haps it  was  not  their  life's  work  :  a  fellow- 
ship might  be  only  a  stepping-stone  to  a 
college  living,  when  a  sufficiently  fat  benefice 
should  fall  vacant  and  allow  the  dean  or  sub- 
warden  to  marry  and  retire  into  the  country  ; 
and  even  the  don  who  meant  to  be  a  don  all 
his  days  put  study  or  learned  leisure  first  and 
instruction  second,  the  world  not  yet  believing 
in  the  '  spoon-feeding '  of  youth.  Very  often, 
of  course,  they  did  nothing.  After  all,  when 
you  pay  a  man  for  exercising  no  particular 
functions,  you  can  scarcely  blame  him  for 
strictly  fulfilling  the  conditions  under  which 
he  was  elected.  *  But  what  do  they  do  ^.  ' 
inquired — quite  recently — a  tourist,  pointing 
to  the  fellows'  buildings  of  a  certain  college. 
^  Do  ?  !  ! '  replied  the  Oxford  cicerone — '  do  ? 
.  .  .  why  them's  fellows ! '  But  if  there  was 
inactivity,  it  is  only  the  more  credit  to  the 
minority  who  really  did  interest  themselves  in 


A  Place  of  Learned  Leisure  1 27 

the  work  of  their  pupils.  Not  that  the  relation 
of  authorities  to  undergraduates  was  ever  then 
what  it  has  since  become — whether  the  change 
he  for  the  better  or  the  worse.  Few  attempts 
were  made  to  bridge  the  chasm  which  must 
always  yawn  between  the  life  of  teacher  and 
taught.  Perhaps  now  the  attempt  is  a  little 
over-emphasised;  certainly  things  are  done 
which  would  have  made  each  particular  hair 
to  stand  on  end  on  the  head  of  a  Fellow  of 
the  old  school.  In  his  solemn  and  formal  way 
he  winked  at  rowing,  considering  it  rather 
fast  and  on  the  whole  an  inevitable  sign  of 
declining  morals.  He  wore  his  cap  and  gown 
with  the  anachronistic  persistency  of  Mr.  Toole 
in  'The  Don/  and  sighed  over  the  levity  of 
a  colleague  who  occasionally  sported  a  blue 
coat  with  brass  buttons.  Had  you  told  him 
that  within  the  present  century  College  Tutors 
would  be  seen  in  flannels,  and  that  a  Head 
of  a  House  could  actually  row  on  the  river 
in  an  eight  —  albeit  the  ship  in  question 
be  manned  by  comparatively  grave  and 
reverend  seniors,  yclept   the   Ancient  Mariners 


128  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

—  he  would  probably  have  replied  in  the 
formula  ascribed  to  Dr.  Johnson  :  '  Let  me 
tell  you,  sir,  that  in  order  to  be  what  you 
consider  humorous  it  is  not  necessary  that  you 
should  be  also  indecent ! '  But  there  is  a 
lower  depth  still  ;  and  grave  dignitaries  of 
the  University  have  been  seen  riding  bicycles. 
All  this  would  have  been  quite  unintel- 
ligible to  the  youthful  days  of  our  friend, 
whom  we  see  leisurely  approaching  the  evening 
of  his  days  in  the  midst  of  a  generation  that 
does  not  know  him  indeed,  but  which  is  cer- 
tainly benefited  by  his  presence  and  the 
picture  of  academic  repose  which  he  displays 
to  his  much-troubled  and  harassed  successors  : 
a  peaceful,  cloistered  life ;  soon  to  leave 
nothing  behind  it  but  a  brass  in  the  College 
chapel,  a  few  Common  Room  anecdotes,  and 
a  vague  tradition,  perhaps,  of  a  ghost  on 
the  old  familiar  staircase.  Far  different  is 
the  lot  of  the  Fellow  fin  de  siecle ;  *by 
many  names  men  know  him,'  whether  he  be 
the  holder  of  an  '  official '  Fellowship,  or  a 
*  Prize  Fellow  *  who  is    entitled  to  his  emolu- 


A  Place  of  Learned  Leisure  129 

ments    only   for   the    paltry    period    of    seven 
years.       And    what    emoluments !    Verily   the 
mouth    of    Democracy    must     water    at     the 
thought  of  the  annual  *  division  of  the  spoils ' 
which    used    to    take    place     under    the    old 
regime :    spoils  which  were  worth  dividing,  too, 
in  the  days  when   rents  were   paid   without  a 
murmur,  and  colleges  had  not  as  yet  to  allow 
tenants   to    hold   at   half-a-crown  an  acre,  lest 
the  farm  should  be  unlet  altogether.     But  now 
if   a    Prize    Fellow   receives  his   200/.   a  year 
he  may  consider  himself  lucky  ;  and  remember 
that    if    he    is    not    blessed   with    this   world's 
goods,   the  grim   humours    of  the  last   Com- 
mission at   least   allowed   him   the   inestimable 
privilege  of  marrying — on  200/.  a  year.     After 
all,  it  is  not  every  one  who  receives  even  that 
salary  for  doing  nothing. 

The  '  official '  variety  of  Fellow,  or  the 
Prize  Fellow  who  chooses  to  be  a  College 
Tutor,  is  a  schoolmaster,  with  a  difference. 
He  has  rather  longer  holidays — if  he  can 
afford  to  enjoy  them — and  a  considerably 
shorter  purse  than    the    instructors    of  youth 

K 


130  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

at    some  great  schools.      He  is  so  far  unfor- 
tunate in  his  predecessors,  that  he  has  inherited 
the    reputation    of   the   Fellows   of  old   time. 
Everybody  else    is    working:    the    Fellow    is 
still  a  useless   drone.      As    a   matter   of   fact, 
the  unfortunate   man   is    always    doing    some- ' 
thing  —  working   vehemently   with   a  laudable 
desire   to    get    that    into    eight    weeks    which 
should   properly    take    twelve;    or    taking   his 
recreation    violently,  riding   forty   miles    on   a 
bicycle,  with  a  spurt   at   the   finish   so  as  not 
to  miss  his   five-o'clock   pupil ;    sitting  on  in- 
terminable committees — everything    in    Oxford 
is  managed    by  a   committee,  partly,    perhaps, 
because    '  Boards   are    very  often    screens ; '  or 
sitting  upon  a   disorderly  undergraduate.     On 
the    whole,     the    kicks    are     many,    and    the 
halfpence    comparatively    few.       He    has    the 
Long    Vacation,    of   course,   but    then    he    is 
always  employed  in  writing  his  lectures  for  next 
term,    or    compiling    a   school    edition,    or    a 
handbook,    or    an    abridgment    of    somebody 
else's  school  edition  or  handbook,  in  order  to 
keep  the  pot   boiling — more   especially  if  he 


A  Place  of  Learned  Leisure  131 

has  fallen  a  victim  to  matrimony,  and  estab- 
lished himself  in  the  red-brick  part  of  Oxford. 
It  is  true  that  there  is  the  prospect — on  paper 
— of  a  pension  when  he  is  past  his  work,  but  in 
the  present  state  of  College  finances  that  is 
not  exactly  a  vista  of  leisured  opulence. 
Altogether  there  is  not  very  much  repose 
about  him.  College  Tutors  in  these  days  are 
expected  to  work.  It  is  on  record  that  a 
tourist  from  a  manufacturing  district  on  seeing 
four  tutors  snatching  a  brief  hour  at  lawn- 
tennis,  remarked,  *I  suppose  there's  another  shift 
working  inside?'  Such  are  the  requirements 
of  the  age  and  the  manufacturing  districts. 

Nor  are  beer  and  skittles  unadulterated 
the  lot  of  the  undergraduate  either — what- 
ever the  impression  that  his  sisters  and 
cousins  may  derive  from  the  gaieties  of  the 
Eights  and  *  Commem.'  For  the  spirit  of 
the  century  and  the  *  Sturm  und  Drang '  of 
a  restless  world  has  got  hold  of  the  '  Man,' 
too,  and  will  not  suffer  him  to  live  quite  so 
peacefully  as  the  Verdant  Greens  and  Bouncers 
of  old.     Everybody  must  do  something  ;  they 


132  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

must  be  *  up  and  doing/  or  else  they  have  a 
good  chance  of  finding  themselves  *  sent 
down/  I  do  not  speak  of  the  reading  man, 
who  naturally  finds  his  vocation  in  a  period 
of  activity — but  rather  of  the  man  who  is  by 
nature  non-reading,  and  has  to  sacrifice  his 
natural  desires  to  the  pressure  of  public 
opinion  acting  through  his  tutor.  Perhaps 
he  is  made  to  go  in  for  honours  ;  but  even 
if  he  reads  only  for  a  pass,  the  schools  are 
always  with  him — he  is  always  being  pulled 
up  to  see  how  he  is  growing ;  or  at  least  he 
must  be  serving  his  College  in  one  way  or 
another  —  if  not  by  winning  distinction  in 
the  schools,  by  toiling  on  the  river  or 
the  cricket-field.  Then  he  is  expected  to 
interest  himself  in  all  the  movements  of  the 
last  quarter  of  the  nineteenth  century  ;  he 
must  belong  to  several  societies ;  he  cannot  even 
be  properly  idle  without  forming  himself  into 
an  association  for  the  purpose.  If  he  wants 
to  make  a  practice  of  picnicing  on  the  Cher- 
well  he  founds  a  '  Cher  well  Lunch  Club,' 
with    meetings,    no    doubt,    and    possibly    an 


A  Place  of  Learned  Leisure  133 

*  organ  *  to  advocate  his  highly  meritorious 
views.  An  excellent  and  a  healthy  life,  no 
doubt !  but  yet  one  is  tempted  sometimes  to 
fear  that  the  loafer  may  become  extinct  ;  and 
then  where  are  our  poets  to  come  from? 
For  it  is  a  great  thing  to  be  able  to  loaf 
well  :  it  softens  the  manners  and  does  not 
allow  them  to  be  fierce ;  and  there  is  no 
place  for  it  like  the  streams  and  gardens  of 
an  ancient  University.  If  a  man  does  not 
learn  the  great  art  of  doing  nothing  there, 
he  will  never  acquire  it  anywhere  else  ;  and 
it  is  there,  and  in  the  summer  term,  that 
this  laudable  practice  will  probably  survive 
when  it  is  unknown  even  in  Government 
Offices. 

For  there  is  a  season  of  the  year  when 
even  the  sternest  scholar  or  athlete  and  the 
most  earnest  promoter  of  Movements  yields  to 
the  genius  loci;  when  the  summer  term  is 
drawing  to  a  close,  and  the  May  east  winds 
have  yielded  to  the  warmth  of  June,  and  the 
lilacs  and  laburnums  are  blossoming  in  College 
gardens  ;    when   the    shouting   and    the   glory 


134  Aspects  of  Modern  Oxford 

and  the  bonfires  of  the  Eights  are  over,  and 
the  invasion  of  Commemoration  has  not  yet 
begun.  Then,  if  ever,  is  the  time  for  doing 
nothing.  Then  the  unwilling  victim  of  lectures 
shakes  off  his  chains  and  revels  in  a  temporary 
freedom,  not  unconnected  with  the  fact  that 
his  tutor  has  gone  for  a  picnic  to  Nuneham. 
Perhaps  he  has  been  rowing  in  his  College 
Eight,  and  is  entitled  to  repose  on  the  laurels 
of  *  six  bumps  ; '  perhaps  he  is  not  in  the 
schools  himself,  and  can  afford  to  pity  the 
unfortunates  who  are.  And  how  many  are 
the  delightful  ways  of  loafing !  You  may 
propel  the  object  of  your  affections  —  if  she 
is  up,  as  she  very  often  is  at  this  time  —  in 
a  punt  on  that  most  academic  stream,  the 
Cherwell,  while  Charles  (your  friend)  escorts 
the  chaperon  in  a  dingey  some  little  dis- 
tance in  front ;  you  may  lie  lazily  in  the 
sun  in  Worcester  or  St.  John's  gardens,  with 
a  novel,  or  a  friend,  or  both  ;  you  may  search 
Bagley  and  Powderhill  for  late  bluebells,  and 
fancy  that  you  have  found  *  high  on  its  heathy 
ridge'  the  tree  known  to  Arnold  and  Clough. 


A  Place  of  Learned  Leisure  135 

Or  if  you  are  more  enterprising  you  may 
travel  further  afield  and  explore  the  high  beech 
woods  of  the  Chiltern  slopes  and  the  bare, 
breezy  uplands  of  the  Berkshire  downs  ;  but 
this,  perhaps,  demands  more  energy  than 
belongs  to  the  truly  conscientious  loafer. 

Well,  let  the  idle  undergraduate  make  the 
most  of  his  time  now ;  it  is  not  likely  that 
he  will  be  able  to  loaf  in  after-life.  Nor  (for 
the  matter  of  that)  will  his  successors  be  allowed 
to  take  their  ease  here  in  Oxford  even  in  the 
summer,  in  those  happy  days  when  the  Uni- 
versity is  to  be  turned  into  an  industrial 
school,  and  a  place  for  the  education  no 
longer  of  the  English  gentleman  but  the 
British  citizen.  Will  that  day  ever  come  .^^ 
The  spirit  of  the  age  is  determined  that  it 
shall.  But  perhaps  the  spirit  of  the  place 
may  be  too  much  for  it  yet. 


London:  Strangeways^  Printers, 


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